Douglas  DurKin 


'    359  E 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 


STEPPING  IN  QUICKLY  KIRK  TORE  THE  FIGHTING  DQGS  APART. 

[Page  142] 


THE 

LOBSTICK  TRAIL 


BY 

DOUGLAS  DURKIN 

AUTHOR  OF 
THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 


FRONTISPIECE  BY 

CHARLES  L.  WRENN 


1  NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &     DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 

Made  in  the  United  State*  of  Amenca 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co. 
1922 


Published  March,  1922 


Copyrighted  in  Great  Britain 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 


2135358 


The  Lobstick  Trail 

CHAPTER  I. 

ONE  morning  in  particular  had  always  stood 
out  in  the  memory  of  Kirk  Brander.  The 
night  before  had  been  a  big  night — there 
had  been  a  cabaret  and  drinks  and  girls  and  a 
drunken  home-coming  in  the  gray  spring  dawn. 
For  Kirk  had  just  turned  twenty-three,  and  a  half 
dozen  of  his  boon  companions  had  taken  advantage 
of  the  occasion  to  assemble  and  Daint  the  town  its 
traditional  hue  in  his  honor. 

The  next  morning,  much  against  his  own  will 
in  the  matter,  he  had  been  forced  by  a  custom 
unbroken  in  the  house  of  his  uncle  and  guardian 
to  appear  as  usual  for  breakfast.  Kirk's  attempts 
at  eating  would  have  appeared  pathetic  to  some — 
to  his  uncle  they  were  funny.  In  fact,  his  uncle 
had  enjoyed  the  humor  of  the  situation  without 
speaking  for  so  long  that  Kirk  had  begun  to  fear 
he  was  on  the  point  of  losing  his  self-control.  He 
could  have  borne  with  anything  except  his  uncle 's 
good-humored  silence. 

When  the  tension  was  at  its  highest  point,  how- 
ever, relief  came.  With  a  kind  of  bitter  satisfac- 
tion Kirk  saw  the  cynical  smile  disappear  almost 

i 


2  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

suddenly  from  his  uncle  's  face.  He  saw  the  heavy 
countenance  drop.  He  saw  the  straight,  thin  line 
of  the  mouth  tighten.  His  good  old  uncle — the 
only  man  in  the  world  he  had  ever  sincerely  ad- 
mired— was  going  to  run  true  to  form.  And  Kirk 
set  himself  for  the  shock.  He  knew  that  his  old 
Uncle  Hal  could  do  that  kind  of  thing  to  the  king's 
taste. 

Henry  Tyne — Kirk  Brander's  uncle  on  his 
mother's  side — held  strong  opinions  on  young 
men  in  general,  his  young  nephew  in  particular. 
Though  he  resented  it  keenly,  Kirk  had  been 
forced  frequently  to  admit  that  the  old  man  was 
substantially  correct.  On  this  one  morning  in  par- 
ticular, the  admission,  somehow  or  other,  seemed 
to  come  easily.  It  suited  his  mood  exactly.  When 
he  found  himself  alone  after  the  worst  gruelling 
he  had  ever  had  the  honor  to  receive  at  his  uncle 's 
hands,  he  felt  as  if  a  new  light  had  broken  in  upon 
him.  True,  he  had  experienced  something  of  the 
same  feeling  before,  but  it  had  never  come  to  him 
so  vividly.  He  was  everything  the  old  man  had 
called  him,  and  more.  What  he  had  heard  dif- 
fered little,  if  any,  from  what  he  had  heard  a  score 
of  times  before ;  but  it  was  as  if  he  had  just  list- 
ened to  it  for  the  first  time  in  his  life. 

But  all  this  had  happened  nearly  five  years  ago. 
For  five  years  Kirk  Brander  had  kept  so  con- 
stantly in  mind  a  resolve  he  had  made  that  morn- 
ing that  it  had  grown  into  a  grim  determination 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  3 

that  refused  to  acknowledge  defeat,  even  when  the 
odds  were  overwhelmingly  against  him.  For  five 
years  he  had  given  himself  to  the  stern  business  of 
making  a  man  of  himself.  For  five  years  he  had 
studied  the  ways  of  Canada's  northland  and  had 
striven  to  accustom  himself  to  its  hard  usuages. 
He  had  learned  to  sleep,  as  he  had  never  slept 
before,  wherever  night  should  overtake  him  on 
the  trail,  had  learned  to  relish  his  self -prepared 
meal  of  fried  bacon  and  beans  far  more  heartily 
than  he  had  ever  relished  the  most  tempting  selec- 
tion of  fare  from  the  menus  of  over-priced  caba- 
rets in  the  cities  of  the  east.  And  he  had  taken  to 
it  all,  for  the  most  part,  with  light-hearted  en- 
thusiasm. 

Only  once  in  those  five  years  had  he  come  near 
quitting.  After  a  summer  spent  in  The  Pas — a 
northern  Manitoba  frontier  town — he  had  gone 
into  the  woods  with  an  experienced  young 
northerner,  a  French-Canadian  by  the  name 
of  Walter  Lanionte.  "Wally"  was  at  least  half 
French.  The  other  half  was  Scotch  with  a  strain 
of  Cree.  He  had  pushed  his  way  for  twenty  years 
through  Canada's  hinterland,  had  shot  rapids 
where  no  white  man  had  ever  been  seen,  had  hunt- 
ed and  trapped,  and  laughed  and  fought  his  way 
through  everything  with  a  good  humor  that  had 
never  failed  him.  When  Kirk  and  Lamonte  first 
met  they  had  found  each  other  amusing.  Before 
they  had  known  each  other  a  month  they  had  be- 
come the  best  of  friends.  And  when  the  snow  fell 


4  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

they  took  the  trail  together  and  went  into  the  wilds 
to  trap.  From  Lamonte  Kirk  learned  how  to  keep 
a  dog  team  in  the  trail,  how  to  build  a  cabin,  how 
to  set  out  a  line  of  traps,  and  the  hundred  and  one 
tricks  of  woodcraft  that  twenty  years  in  the  wilds 
had  taught  the  young  French- Canadian. 

The  end  of  the  friendship  had  been  as  sudden  as 
it  was  sickeningly  tragic.  Lamonte  had  gone  out 
for  supplies  and  had  left  Kirk  alone  in  the  cabin. 
The  strenuous  days  of  Kirk's  first  winter  in  the 
northern  wilds  had  done  much  to  put  iron  into  his 
will,  but  the  constant  struggle  against  the  elements 
had  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  keep  all  his 
physical  forces  in  the  field  at  once.  He  had  found 
little  opportunity  for  building  a  reserve.  Lamonte 
had  left  him  suffering  from  a  bad  cold,  and  during 
the  days  that  immediately  followed  his  departure 
Kirk  began  to  grow  unreasonably  anxious  for  his 
return.  When  the  time  for  his  arrival  had  passed 
without  his  putting  in  an  appearance  Kirk's 
anxiety  increased  to  a  fear  that  persisted  in  spite 
of  his  determination  to  throw  it  off.  Two  days 
later,  unable  to  stand  the  suspense  any  longer,  he 
had  risen  from  his  bed  in  the  early  morning  and 
dressed  for  the  trail.  Something,  he  felt,  was 
coming  over  him  gradually,  had  been  coming  over 
him,  in  fact,  for  days.  When  he  got  from  his  bed 
and  started  to  prepare  breakfast  the  thought  of 
eating  nauseated  him.  His  face  felt  unnaturally 
hot.  When  he  stepped  from  the  doorway  of  the 
cabin  on  his  way  out  to  look  for  Lamonte,  the 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  5 

first  light  breeze  seemed  to  strike  through  his 
wind-proof  parka  and  sent  the  chills  to  his  very 
bones. 

Just  before  noon  that  day  he  found  Lamonte. 
The  dogs  were  nowhere  in  evidence.  The  supplies 
were  still  on  the  cariole  untouched.  A  few  black- 
ened embers  lay  in  a  little  heap  on  the  sheltered 
side  of  a  tarpaulin  that  hung  from  the  branches 
of  a  couple  of  trees.  And  sitting  erect  in  the  snow 
only  a  few  yards  away,  his  rifle  sticking  upright 
in  a  drift  beside  him,  was  the  lifeless,  frozen  form 
of  Walter  Lamonte,  his  hands  and  arms  end  part 
of  his  face  eaten  away,  either  by  his  own  dogs  or 
by  wolves.  Kirk  had  come  upon  him  suddenly 
and  the  sight  sickened  him  horribly.  He  did  not 
wait  to  seek  any  explanation  of  what  he  had  found. 
The  fear  that  had  haunted  him  for  days  swooped 
down  over  him  like  an  icy  spectre  and  he  hurried 
off  down  the  trail,  insanely  reckless  of  where  he 
was  going,  his  hands  pressed  to  his  eyes  to  keep 
out  the  memory  of  what  he  had  seen. 

Late  that  night  "Tuck"  Eoberts,  a  big  souther- 
ner whose  cabin  stood  some  twenty  or  thirty  miles 
to  the  westward,  came  across  Kirk  plunging  blind- 
ly through  the  deep  snow  and  muttering  incoher- 
ently to  himself.  With  some  difficulty  Eoberts 
persuaded  him  to  come  to  his  cabin  'and  there  Kirk 
had  remained  until  the  spring  break-up. 

When  he  had  recovered  sufficient  strength  to 
permit  of  his  travelling,  Koberts  took  him  out  to 
The  Pas.  For  the  first  time  since  he  had  left  the 


6  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

east  Kirk  felt  himself  thoroughly  beaten.  For  the 
first  time,  too,  he  wrote  his  uncle  acknowledging 
again  the  wisdom  of  his  guardian's  verdict  de- 
livered the  morning  after  his  was  twenty-three. 
By  the  time  his  uncle's  reply  came  he  was  almost 
himself  again  and  had  all  but  forgotten  his  desire 
to  get  back  to  the  comforts  and  pleasures  of  his 
home  in  the  city.  When  the  desire  did  arise — as 
it  was  more  or  less  bound  to  do  periodically  dur- 
ing his  convalescence  —  he  thought  of  Tuck 
Eoberts  and  poor  old  Wally  Lamonte  and  then 
thought  of  the  old  companions  he  had  left  behind 
him  a  year  before.  He  thought,  too,  of  the  clear 
blue  in  the  eyes  of  Euth  Mackay — and  others  of 
her  kind  in  the  little  northern  frontier  town — and 
he  confessed  to  himself  that  there  were  no  eyes 
like  those  anywhere  in  the  memories  that  came  to 
him  from  the  streets  of  the  city.  He  had  grown 
to  love  the  north  in  spite  of  its  ruthlessness.  Even 
as  he  waited  for  the  return  of  full  vigor  there  came 
the  songs  of  the  men  going  off  down  the  Saskat- 
chewan now  clear  of  ice,  the  rhythmic  sweep  of 
their  oars,  the  light  vigorous  stroke  of  their  gleam- 
ing paddles,  the  sight  of  a  great  river  stretching 
its  sinuous  length  under  the  open  skies,  and  every- 
where the  silent  wooing  of  the  heart  of  the  wild. 

There  followed  a  northland  summer  with  the 
return  of  the  waterfowl  and  the  fluttering  into  life 
of  poplars  and  birches  and  the  upward  pushing  of 
the  reeds  along  the  waterways.  Kirk  and  Tuck 
went  in  together  to  prospect  for  gold  and  copper. 


Each  day  came  with  its  own  struggles  against 
the  wild  forces  in  nature,  each  day  with  its  su- 
preme desires — and  each  night  with  its  reckoning 
up  of  victory  or  defeat.  He  had  watched  while 
other  men,  stronger  in  limb  than  he,  took  defeat 
and  went  at  it  again.  He  had  seen  men  lose  their 
season's  supplies  in  an  unlucky  miscalculation 
of  a  moment  while  they  battled  waistdeep  against 
the  rapids  in  a  river  or  were  caught  unawares  in 
a  sudden  wind  upon  the  lake.  He  had  more  than 
once  said  good-bye  to  men  who  had  gone  in  to  seek 
out  the  hidden  riches  of  the  earth  and  had  never 
come  back.  He  had  come  within  a  hair 's  breadth 
cf  losing  his  own  life  on  at  least  a  half  dozen  oc- 
casions. But  he  had  played  a  man's  full  part  and 
had  taken  his  knocks  without  a  whimper.  He  had 
taken  and  given  measure  for  measure  whether  he 
bargained  with  nature  or  man.  He  had  proven 
to  himself  that  he  could  take  up  a  man's  task  and 
see  it  through. 

Now,  at  the  end  of  his  fifth  year  in  the 
north,  Kirk  was  going  down  to  the  Pas  alone  with 
his  dogs  and  his  cariole  filled  with  furs  — 
and  in  his  mind  a  new  resolve.  In  five  years 
he  had  gained  all  that  he  had  come  north  to 
gain  —  a  consciousness  that  he  could  be  of 
some  good  in  the  world  after  all.  Having  done 
that  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  left  for  him 
in  the  north.  He  had  managed  to  build  up  a  tidy 
account  in  the  bank  at  The  Pas.  He  could  go  back 
east  with  a  clear  conscience,  meet  with  a  clear  eye 


8 

the  shrewd  gaze  of  his  old  Uncle  Hal,  strike  his 
hand  in  a  clasp  that  would  bring  the  old  man  to  a 
physical  sense  of  his  fitness,  and  take  his  place  in 
life  alongside  the  best  of  them. 

For  with  all  the  love  he  had  conceived  for  the 
life  he  had  lived  for  five  years,  he  could  not  quite 
shake  himself  free  of  the  feeling  that,  after  all,  it 
had  been  five  years  of  exile.  For  months  he  had 
been  the  victim  of  a  homesickness  that  he  could 
not  overcome.  He  wanted  to  see  his  old  uncle 
again,  he  wanted  to  see  people,  he  wanted — he 
could  not  clearly  define  the  vague  upwelling  of  de- 
sire within  his  heart.  He  was  most  conscious  of  it 
when  he  allowed  his  mind  to  dwell  upon  the  eyes 
of  Kuth  Mackay.  He  had  thought  much  lately 
about  the  women  he  had  known  before  coming 
north,  of  their  soft  eyes  and  the  lustre  of  their 
hair,  and  often,  too,  of  the  deep  significance  of 
womanhood — and  the  admissions  he  had  made 
secretly  to  himself  brought  him  no  sense  of  shame 
or  self-consciousness.  His  blood  was  clean,  his 
body  knit  of  fibre  woven  in  God's  out-of-doors, 
his  mind  fashioned  under  a  clear  sky  in  a  land  of 
wide  horizons.  In  short,  Kirk  Brander  was  going 
out  now  for  the  last  time  because  the  life  that  was 
in  him  impelled  him  to  go.  He  would  never  come 
back  over  that  trail  again.  He  would  tell  that  to 
Tuck  at  the  first  opportunity. 

He  spoke  once  sharply  to  his  dogs  and  jerked 
his  cariole  quickly  to  one  side.  The  dogs  came 
willingly  enough  to  a  standstill  and  waited  frisk- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  9 

ing  their  arched  tails  slowly  as  they  turned  their 
heads  toward  him.  For  two  days  they  had  fought 
their  way  through  a  March  blizzard  in  which  it 
was  almost  impossible  to  ke,ep  one's  bearings. 
The  wind  had  dropped  during  the  afternoon  and 
the  sun  had  gone  down  in  a  sky  that  promised  fair 
weather.  The  air  was  still  filled  with  fine  particles 
of  snow  that  drifted  down  from  the  spruce  and 
tamaracs  and  glistened  faintly  in  the  failing  light. 
Kirk  knew  that  within  an  hour  he  would  emerge 
at  last  from  the  seemingly  endless  miles  of  tree- 
sheltered  trail  and  drop  down  to  the  smooth  wind- 
swept level  of  the  Saskatchewan.  Ten  or  twelve 
miles  of  river  trail  and  he  would  be  at  The  Pas, 
the  foremost  outpost  of  civilization  in  northern 
Manitoba.  Then  the  hilarious  reunions,  the  good 
cheer  of  crowded  rooms,  the  luxury  of  long  lazy 
days  and  nights  with  snug  quarters  and  piping  hot 
meals. 

During  the  five  years  that  Kirk  Brander  had 
spent  in  the  north,  he  had  come  in  over  practically 
the  same  trail  a  score  of  times  or  more,  his  gray 
huskies  panting  their  way  through  miles  of  ill- 
broken  or  wholly  trackless  expanses  of  snow,  his 
cariole  weighted  down  with  its  freight  of  raw  furs, 
his  heart  more  hungry  than  he  would  have  cared 
to  admit  for  the  warmth  of  a  stout  hand-clasp  and 
the  cordial  glow  of  a  human  face.  But  now,  with 
his  new  resolve  burning  within  him,  his  mood  was 
strangely  different.  He  looked  about  him  while  his 
dogs  rested,  looked  about  at  the  low  hills  and  the 


10 

skies  and  the  dusky  woodland  where  the  darkness 
was  already  setting  in.  In  another  month  it  would 
be  spring  and  the  old  longing,  he  knew,  would  he 
back  upon  him.  Of  one  thing  he  was  certain.  He 
must  leave  the  north  while  the  ice  was  still  on  the 
river,  while  the  snow  was  still  deep  in  the  trail — 
or  he  would  not  have  the  will  power  to  go  at  all. 
For  he  knew  that  spring  would  bring  back  with  it 
the  soft  allurements  and  the  gentle  wooings,  the 
swinging  songs  and  the  laughing  of  men,  the 
greening  forests  and  the  browning  earth — and  he 
knew  only  too  well  what  his  heart  would  bid  him  do. 

Quickly  he  turned  his  face  towards  the  north. 
He  took  a  half  dozen  steps  slowly  along  the  trail 
his  cariole  had  just  marked  in  the  snow.  He  tossed 
back  the  hood  of  his  parka  and  listened.  The  still- 
ness was  like  death  itself.  Suddenly  he  straight- 
ened himself  and  smiled. 

"Never  again  I"  he  said  aloud  as  he  looked 
about  him  in  the  gathering  darkness.  "Never 
again,  yon  white-faced,  bare-fanged,  snarling 
desert  of  exile!  Never  again!" 

He  hurried  back  to  his  cariole,  tossed  it  into 
position  and  with  a  sharp  whistle  flung  out  his 
long-lashed  dog  whip,  making  it  crack  in  mid-air 
with  the  report  of  a  rifle. 

"Wh-s-s-s-t!  Hi,  you!  Bingo!  Tip!  Snap! 
Mush!" 

Half  an  hour  later  they  swung  at  a  merry  gallop 
down  the  high  bank  of  the  Saskatchewan  and  came 
to  the  hard,  wind-beaten  level  of  the  river. 


CHAPTER  IL 

THE  group  of  men  who  crowded  the  large 
square  room  of  "Wu  Long's  " Northern 
Lights"  restaurant  had  come  in,  with  one 
or  two  exceptions,  during  the  past  forty-eight 
hours  from  distant  and  widely  separated  points  in 
the  north.  They  had  not  met  for  weeks,  the  ma- 
jority of  them  had  not  'been  out  since  the  first  real 
snowfall  of  the  season,  and  now  it  was  the  middle 
of  March.  Similar  groups  might  have  been  found 
crowding  other  places  in  the  town,  for  hundreds 
of  prospectors  and  trappers  and  men  from  the 
lumber  camps  had  been  arriving  during  the  entire 
week  to  be  on  hand  for  the  annual  dog  Derby. 

For  the  past  twenty-four  hours  interest  in  the 
coming  dog  race  had  given  way  temporarily  be- 
fore an  unexpected  announcement  that  had  been 
made  by  Jim  Cavanagh,  the  provincial  constable. 
Two  crimes  in  the  northland  are  regarded  as  even 
worse  than  murder.  There  may  be  some  reason 
for  killing  a  man,  though  now-a-days  the  reason 
must  be  a  good  one,  but  no  one  has  any  reason 
either  for  stealing  furs  or  for  running  off  with 
another  man's  dogs.  And  Jim  Cavanagh  had 
given  out  the  news  that  the  warehouse  of  the  Hud- 
son *g  Bay  Company  had  been  broken  open  and 

11 

(2) 


12  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

bales  of  fur  to  the  value  of  twenty  thousand  dol- 
lars removed. 

The  door  opened  and  Phil  Roche  stepped  into 
the  room  accompanied  by  a  half-breed,  Joe 
Bedard.  Joe  closed  the  door  and  turned  to  talk 
with  the  half-breed  girl  who  stood  behind  the 
glass  case  that  served  as  a  counter.  Phil  Eoche 
walked  to  the  middle  of  the  room  and  paused  be- 
fore Tuck  Roberts,  who  was  busy  arguing  with 
old  man  Dags. 

*  *  They  Ve  got  the  loot ! '  '  he  announced  abruptly. 

Roche's  tall  form  was  clad  in  a  dark  green 
mackinaw,  his  trousers  tucked  into  heavy  woollen 
socks.  On  his  feet  he  wore  moecassins  of  beaded 
buckskin  and  on  his  large  head  a  fox-skin  cap,  the 
thick  flaps  of  which  hung  loosely  about  his  ears. 

The  men  pressed  forward  eagerly  for  news. 

"Old  Jimmy  found  the  stuff  cached  in  the 
woods  the  other  side  of  the  railway,  under  two 
feet  of  snow — all  there — dead  easy !  Whoever  did 
that  job  sure  bungled  it." 

"Any  clue! "  Dags  asked  briefly. 

"They've  got  enough,"  Roche  replied. 

"Ye-h?"  Old  man  Dags  seemed  to  be  only 
casually  interested  in  anything  Roche  could  say. 

"Jimmy  won't  talk  but— he'll  talk  later.  I'd 
call  it  fast  work — fast  even  for  Jimmy — but  any- 
one can  work  fast  on  a  job  as  crude  as  that  one." 

As  Roche  turned  to  go  Dags'  eyes  followed  him 
and  a  look  almost  cynical  passed  slowly  over  the 
old  man's  face.  Roche  paused  near  the  door. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  13 

"No  word  from  Brander  yet?"  lie  said  looking 
back  towards  Tuck  Roberts. 

"Not  yet,"  Tuck  replied  and  Koche  went  out 
alone. 

"The  son  of  a  dog  did  that  job  himself,"  Dags 
suddenly  said  to  Tuck  when  the  door  had  closed. 

1 1  Dags ! ' '  Tuck  exclaimed. 

For  answer  Dags  looked  Tuck  over  once  with- 
out smiling. 

"Young  fellow,"  he  said  turning  more  directly 
to  Tuck  and  speaking  so  quietly  that  he  could  not 
be  heard  above  the  din  except  by  Tuck,  "I'm  older 
than  you  are — just  about  forty  years  older — an* 
it  won't  hurt  you  a  damn'  bit  to  listen  to  a  man 
some  older.  You  can't  trust  a  bad  dog — an'  when 
yon  ain't  lookin'  he's  goin'  to  bite.  Now,  look 
out!" 

Dags  was  by  a  long  way  the  oldest  man  in  the 
room.  He  had  come  to  The  Pas  when  the  first 
news  of  gold  in  the  district  had  trickled  out  and 
found  its  way  into  the  newspapers.  Who  he  was  or 
where  he  hailed  from,  no  man  really  knew.  On 
one  occasion,  Tuck  Roberts,  in  an  irrepressible 
mood,  had  boldly  asked  the  old  man  what  his  real 
name  was.  Dags  had  been  more  communicative 
than  usual,  a  fact  that  was  due  in  large  measure, 
no  doubt,  to  his  having  imbibed  more  freely  than 
usual  of  a  favorite  though  rather  poor  grade 
of  whisky.  But  Dags,  drunk  or  sober,  never  for- 
got himself.  He  had  sobered  perceptibly  at 
Tuck's  question  and  had  looked  his  questioner 


14  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

over  for  a  full  minute  before  making  a  reply. 

"My  name,  young  fellow,  is  Dags — just  Dags." 

"Yes,  but— but  Dags  who — or  what?"  Tuck 
had  persisted. 

"Dags  nothin' — plain  DagSi — Mister  Dags! 
Ain't  that  enough?" 

And  Dags  had  remained  as  he  was — just  Dags — 
plain  Dags — Mister  Dags,  if  one  happened  to  be 
more  than  usually  polite. 

But  Tuck  had  always  liked  the  old  fellow.  And 
he  liked  him  now  as  he  stood  there  beside  him,  his 
scant  five-feet-nine  reduced  even  further  by  a  de- 
cided stoop,  his  chin  pushed  forward  sharply,  his 
narrow,  half-shut  eyes  squinting  oddly  in  the  dim 
light  of  the  room. 

Of  some  twenty  entries  in  the  dog  Derby  two 
men  shared  honors  pretty  evenly  as  favorites. 
One  was  Tuck  himself  who  had  left  his  traps  a 
full  month  before  the  race  in  order  to  get  his  dogs 
into  the  very  best  condition  possible  for  the  test. 
His  good  fortune  of  the  year  before  when  he  had 
won  first  money  by  arriving  not  more  than  thirty 
seconds  ahead  of  Phil  Eoche  had  made  him  a  not- 
able favorite  among  the  men.  This  year  he  had 
taken  the  same  dogs,  a  beautifully  matched  team 
of  white-faced  huskies,  heavy  enough  to  stand  the 
gruelling  that  a  hundred  miles  of  raring  would 
impose,  but  trained  to  a  condition  that  was  likely 
to  develop  all  the  speed  th*y  were  capable  of  mak- 
ing, if  the  race  should  have  to  foe  decided,  as  had 
been  the  case  the  year  before,  in  the  last  half  mile. 


15 


Tuck's  chief  opponent,  it  was  generally  agreed, 
was  Phil  Koche.  He  had  made  Tuck  extend  him- 
self to  the  very  limit  at  the  finish  of  the  previous 
race.  This  year  it  was  generally  felt  that  Tuck 
had  even  more  to  fear  from  Eoche.  While  the 
former  had  talked  freely  of  the  coming  race  and 
of  his  dogs,  Eoche  had  remained  consistently 
secretive  about  his  preparations.  Joe  Bedard, 
the  well-known  and  generally  disliked  half-breed 
of  the  place,  was  the  only  man  in  town  who  knew 
anything  of  Eoche 's  preparations — but  Joe  was 
no  talker.  To  him  Eoche  had  entrusted  a  large 
share  of  the  burden  of  the  preparations,  and  no 
one  doubted  for  a  moment  that  those  preparations 
would  be  complete  to  the  last  detail. 

Tuck  shook  off  the  effect  of  Dags'  remarks 
and  turning  to  the  old  fellow  smiled  pleasantly. 

"I'm  not  worrying  about  the  race,  Dags,"  he 
remarked.  "I  only  wish  the  prize  was  for  live 
thousand  instead  of  two." 

Dags  grunted.  "Too  bad  wishes  ain't  yellow, 
Tuck,"  he  replied.  "We  could  paint  old  Paxton's 
holdings  so  they'd  look  like  a  bloomin'  sunset!" 

Tuck  smiled  affably  and  busied  himself  with 
rolling  a  cigarette. 

There  came  a  sudden  flurry  without  and  the 
door  flew  open  revealing  the  parka-clad  figure  of 
Kirk  Brander  outlined  against  the  darkness,  the 
spare  gray  forms  of  his  dogs  faintly  visible  in  the 
dim  light  that  fell  from  the  doorway. 

"Wh-s-s-s-t— • biug!" 


16  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

He  whistled  sharply  and  tossing  his  long  whip- 
lash into  the  middle  of  the  floor  jerked  his  hand 
back  quickly,  raising  the  ashes  beside  the  stove 
into  a  little  clond  about  the  legs  of  Dags. 

The  old  man,  whether  the  movement  was 
prompted  by  affection  or  'by  the  sudden  crack  of 
the  whip-lash  within  a  few  inches  of  his  feet, 
sprang  towards  Kirk  where  he  stood  laughing  in 
the  doorway.  But  •before  Dags  could  reach  him, 
Kirk's  eyes  had  spotted  Tuck  Eoberts  farther 
back  in  the  room.  In  a  moment  the  two  young 
fellows  were  together  near  the  centre  of  the  room, 
first  in  a  violent  handshake  from  which  they 
broke  suddenly  into  a  rough-and-tumble  sparring 
match  in  which  both  laughed  as  ihey  gave  and  re- 
ceived 'blows  on  the  side  of  the  head  that  would 
have  sent  an  ordinary  man  to  the  floor.  When 
they  finally  closed  and  with  their  arms  about 
each  other  started  a  nondescript  dance  that  forced 
the  others  in  the  room  to  jump  back  from  their 
flying  heels,  a  half  dozen  of  the  men,  one  of  whom 
was  Dags  himself,  rushed  in  and  tore  the  two 
apart. 

Kirk's  eyes  fell  first  upon  Dags. 

" Hello,  Dagsie,  old  boy!"  he  cried  and  catching 
him  by  the  arms  lifted  the  old  fellow  quite  clear  of 
the  floor. 

But  Kirk's  greetings  were  to  be  shared  by  more 
than  Tuck  Roberts  and  old  man  Dags.  Kirk 
Brander  was  like  a  brother  come  back  to  them  all, 
and  in  a  moment  he  was  the  centre  of  a  small  but 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  17 

noisy  mob  of  men  fighting  for  an  opportunity  to 
shake  his  hand. 

Nor  was  there  anything  either  in  his  smiling 
face  or  in  the  deep  good  nature  that  his  whole 
bearing  radiated  that  the  best  man-  and  the 
shrewdest  man  among  them  conld  not  have  trusted 
to  the  limit.  It  was  very  much  as  old  Dags  had 
once  said  of  him — *  *  A  straight  man  couldn't  pick  a 
scrap  with  Kirk  Brander,  and  a  crooked  one 
wouldn't  take  the  chance."  His  shoulders  had 
broadened  and  his  frame  had  reached  up  during 
his  five  years  in  the  open  until  now  he  was  as  per- 
fect a  specimen  physically  as  the  eye  could  wish  to 
see.  In  his  stride  as  he  passed  from  place  to 
place  in  the  room  among  the  men  there  was  an 
ease,  a  jauntiness  even,  that  was  eloquently  ex- 
pressive of  his  own  lightness  of  heart.  The  hood 
of  his  parka  lay  back  revealing  thick  hair  of  a  deep 
auburn  that  in  some  way  or  other  seemed  exactly 
to  fit  his  wonted  jovial  manner. 

Even  Wu  Long  waddled  in  from  the  kitchen 
with  his  broad  smile  and  broken  words  of  welcome. 

"Hi,  there,  "Wu — you  old  ketchem  glub  artist," 
Kirk  cried  as  he  stepped  towards  the  grinning 
proprietor  and  shook  his  hand.  " Hurry  out  and 
fetch  me  a  big  cup  of  black  coffee ! " 

Wu  grinned  even  more  broadly  at  the  recogni- 
tion his  humble  presence  liad  received  and  wad- 
dled away  quickly  in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen 
to  attend  personally  to  Kirk's  order. 

But  Tuck  Roberts  was  already  emerging  from 


18  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

behind  the  swinging  door  that  opened  between  the 
large  room  and  the  kitchen.  In  his  hand  he  car- 
ried a  large  glass  more  than  half  full  of  a  liquid 
that,  in  color  at  least,  resembled  tea  more  than 
coffee. 

"A  little  something  to  warm  yo"nr  blood,  Kirk," 
he  said,  thrusting  the  glass  into  Kirk's  hand. 

Kirk  looked  at  it  a  moment  and  then  held  it  up 
between  himself  and  the  light. 

"This  is  too  stiff  for  me,  Tuck,"  he  said  smiling, 
"and  besides — when  I  do  take  a  drink  I  like 
company." 

In  a  moment  a  dozen  glasses  and  cups  were 
ready.  Kirk  poured  almost  half  the  contents  of 
his  own  glass  into  the  empty  cup  that  Dags  held, 
and  half  of  what  still  remained  into  the  glass  held 
by  Tuck  Koberts.  He  added  water  to  his  own 
while  the  others  in  the  group  prepared  to  join  in 
the  toast.  When  they  were  ready  all  turned  their 
eyes  upon  Kirk. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  thoughtfully  looking 
into  his  glass.  Then  his  eyes  lifted  and  moved 
slowly  from  face  to  face,  dwelling  a  moment  on 
each  as  if  he  wished  to  stamp  its  image  on  his 
memory. 

"To  the  men  who  live  north  of  fifty- three,"  he 
said  quietly,  "and  to  the  last  week  of  Kirk 
Brander's  stay  among  the  best  friends  he  ever 
had!" 

He  did  not  raise  his  glass  immediately.  The 
men  stood  motionless  and  stared  at  him. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  19 

"Quit  your  spoofing,  Kirk,"  said  Tuck. 

"Honest  Injun!"  Kirk  replied.  "I'm  going  to 
end  my  happy  exile  and  go  back  again  to  live 
among  the — the  Philistines  and  the  false 
prophets.'* 

"Which  same  allusion  ain't  precisely  correct," 
remarked  Dags  with  a  touch  of  dry  humor. 

"Philistines  or  Pharisees,  Dagsie,"  Kirk  re- 
plied, ' '  what  's  the  difference  I  I  never  was  strong 
on  religious  distinctions.  But  I'm  going  out,  boys, 
surer  than  jackfish  for  malamutes — and  I'm  not 
coming  back  any  more." 

Kirk  raised  his  glass. 

"I'm  not  in  on  that  toast,  Kirk,"  said  Tuck 
suddenly.  "You've  got  to  take  it  back." 

Kirk  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 

"You're  right,  Tuck,"  he  said  laying  his  hand 
on  Tuck's  shoulder.  "I  should  have  talked  it 
over  with  you  first — that's  what  I  intended.  How's 
this?" 

He  raised  his  glass  again. 

"To  the  good  old  dog  on  the  heavy  trail — and 
the  man  that  never  quits!" 

When  they  had  drunk  the  toast  Tuck  Roberts 
turned  suddenly  to  Kirk. 

"Now  give  us  the  straight  dope  on  this  prodigal 
son  stuff,"  he  demanded. 

"I  hate  to  say  it,  Tuck,  but  I'm  going  out," 
Kirk  replied. 

"Quit  it!"  Tuck  responded. 

Old  Dags  was  within  earshot.    "Why  not?"  he 


20  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

demanded  and  the  whine  in  his  voice  was  even 
more  pronounced.  "We  don't  have  to  inhabit  the 
whole  infernal  globe,  Tuck,  just  because  it's 
here,"  he  declared.  "There  ain't  no  race  that's 
bred  to  it  except  Eskimos  and  huskie-dogs.  An'  I 
say  leave  it  to  them — it's  their  country — let  'em 
keep  it!" 

"He's  had  it  for  three  days,"  Tuck  explained  to 
Kirk.  "If  someone  doesn't  get  him  out  of  town, 
he'll  make  the  dog  Derby  look  like  an  old 
aunt's  funeral." 

Kirk  turned  to  Dags. 

"Cheer  up,  you  old  Lazarus,"  he  said  play- 
fully "Some  day  we're  all  going  to  wake  up  in 
these  parts.  We've  been  dead  to  the  world,  and, 
if  you  don't  look  out  someone  from  outside  will  be 
coming  in  and  cleaning  us  out." 

"Out  o'  what?"  Dags  whined. 

"Out  of  what!"  Kirk  exclaimed.  "Don't  you 
know  that  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  Can- 
adians have  been  puddling  along  on  the  southern 
rim  of  a  country  as  rich  as  any  country  in  the 
world  and  have  handed  the  rest  of  it  over  to  a  com- 
pany of  moneyed  Englishmen  who  never  saw  Can- 
ada and  don't  give  a  tinker's  dam  if  they  ever  do 
or  not.  But  we've  got  to  pull  in  our  belts,  Dagsie. 
God  Almighty's  going  to  give  Canada  the  next 
hundred  years  to  make  good  in,  an'  she's  got  to 
make  good  by  herself  or  forget  about  it  and  let 
someone  else  handle  the  deal.  We've  got  enough 
fish  in  the  lakes  north  of  the  Saskatchewan  to  feed 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  21 

the  rest  of  the  world  week-days  and  Fridays. 
There's  more  good  salmon  in  the  Hudson  Bay 
than  they  ever  dreamed  of  in  Alaska  or  British 
Columbia.  There's  enough  water  power  here  in 
one  province  to  turn  every  wheel,  light  every  house 
and  every  street  in  every  village,  town  and  city 
from  Halifax  to  Vancouver.  There's  timber  and 
stone  and  minerals — why,  God  bless  my  soul,  it 
isn't  a  question  of  whether  the  stuff's  here  or  not. 
It's  a  question  of  whether  we're  packing  the  kind 
of  stuff  here" — and  he  placed  his  hand  over  his 
belt — ' 'that'll  handle  the  deal.  That's  where  we 
stand!" 

The  men  had  all  been  listening  to  Kirk's 
enthusiastic  outbreak  and  a  deep  silence  followed 
when  his  voice  suddenly  ceased. 

From  near  the  stove  came  the  voice  of  old  Dags : 
"An'  you  can  put  them  words  down  to  the  credit 
of  Kirk  Brander — young  but  well-meanin'." 

"Come  on,  Dagsie,"  replied  Kirk,  "give  us  a 
chance  to  be  happy.  Ill  drink  another — just  a 
very  little  one " 

He  lifted  a  glass,  poured  it  half  full  of  water 
from  a  pitcher  that  stood  on  the  table  beside  him 
and  raised  it. 

"To  the  success  of  the  Derby,"  he  said.  "Hats 
off  to  a  fair  race  and  a  good  one — and  may  Tuck 
Eoberts  run  the  best  race  of  his  life." 

The  men  bared  their  heads  and  filling  their 
glasses  drank  facing  Kirk.  Just  as  he  was  about 
to  raise  his  glass,  Kirk's  eyes  fell  upon  Joe  Be- 


22  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

dard  still  lounging  lazily  against  the  counter  near 
the  door.  He  was  not  drinking  and  his  hat  was 
on  his  head. 

"Hats  off,  Joe !"  Kirk  called  in  a  roice  that  was 
not  unpleasant,  though  it  rang  with  a  clear  note 
of  determination. 

For  answer  the  half-breed  got  up  lazily  and, 
without  showing  any  intention  of  complying  with 
the  request,  moved  towards  the  door.  When  his 
hand  was  on  the  latch,  Kirk  took  a  quick  step  for- 
ward. His  right  hand  went  back  quickly  as  he 
seized  the  butt  of  the  whip  that  dangled  on  a  thong 
about  his  wrist.  With  a  quick  movement,  he 
shook  loose  the  long  lash  from  where  he  had 
caught  it  up  about  the  handle.  When  the  end 
dropped  to  the  floor,  he  drew  his  hand  forward 
slowly,  his  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  Bedard's  cap. 
Every  inch  of  the  whip-lash  seemed,  as  if  by 
magic,  to  become  charged  with  life.  It  moved  along 
the  floor  like  a  writhing  snake  and  then  suddenly, 
as  Bark's  hand  snapped  back,  it  leaped  from  the 
floor  through  the  swirling  dust  and  shot  towards 
the  half-breed's  head.  When  it  leaped  back  sud- 
denly with  a  deafening  report,  Bedard's  cap  rose 
straight  into  the  air  and  went  spinning  to  the 
floor  a  couple  of  yards  from  Kirk's  feet. 

For  a  moment  Bedard's  face  was  ablaze  with 
anger.  Kirk  looked  at  him  steadily,  a  half  smile 
playing  about  his  mouth.  Then  he  drank  what  was 
in  his  glass  and  stepping  forward  stooped  good- 
naturedly  and  picked  the  cap  up  from  the  floor. 


23 

For  a  moment  lie  stood  looking  it  over  carefully. 
Then  lie  brushed  the  dust  from  it  and  handed  it 
back  to  Bedard. 

"Too  bad,  Joe,"  he  said  in  the  best  of  good 
humor.  '  '  Tuck  's  my  friend  —  that  's  all.  '  ' 

When  Kirk  reached  the  hotel  late  that  night  he 
was  met  by  the  hotel  clerk  who  flourished  a  yellow 
envelope  in  his  hand. 

Kirk  took  the  telegram  eagerly  and  tore  it  open. 
It  was  from  his  uncle. 

'  '  Get  in  touch  with  Marion  Curtis  arriving 
The  Pas  to-morrow.  Act  on  her  instructions. 
Show  speed  and  look  out  for  W.  K.  P. 

HEETEY 


For  a  long  time  Kirk  stood  reading  the  message 
over  and  over.  The  name  of  Marion  Curtis 
started  vague  memories  —  memories  of  the  life  he 
had  lived  in  those  almost  forgotten  days  before  he 
had  come  north.  Was  that  life,  then,  coming  in  to 
meet  him  even  before  he  returned! 


CHAPTER  HI. 

THE  rear  coach  of  "The  Tamarac" — the  local 
name  for  the  Canadian  National  train 
from  Winnipeg  to  The  Pas — was  filled  to 
capacity  with  Derby  enthusiasts. 

In  one  corner  of  the  smoking  compartment 
Warren  K.  Paxton  had  been  holding  forth  for 
some  time  on  the  fntnre  of  the  north  country.  He 
glanced  from  the  window  suddenly  and  got  up. 

"Drop  into  my  office,"  he  said  to  the  man  whose 
attention  he  had  engaged  for  the  past  hour. 
"You'll  be  staying  over  for  the  Derby.  Drop  in 
and  smoke  a  cigar." 

He  handed  his  companion  a  card  which  bore  the 
information  that  Warren  K.  Paxton  was  sole  re- 
presentative of  the  Eipple  Creek  Copper  Mining 
Company,  with  an  office  on  the  main  street  of  The 
Pas. 

"Come  in  when  you  get  through  with  yonr  busi- 
ness. Glad  to  see  you  any  time." 

He  shook  hands  and  tossing  away  what  re- 
mained of  his  cigar,  left  the  smoking  compartment 
and  went  back  into  the  coach. 

Warren  K.  Paxton  was  not  an  unpleasant  man 
to  look  upon,  if  one  did  not  observe  too  closely 
the  almost  mockingly  patronizing  expression  that 

24 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  25 

never  left  his  countenance.  At  first  glance  one 
would  think  that  Paxton  was  smiling  to  himself, 
agreeably  too.  A  closer  look  would  reveal  the 
sneer  to  which  the  smile  was  little  more  than  a 
very  thin  veneer.  And  once  one  saw  that  sneer 
he  never  again  saw  the  smile.  When  Paxton  really 
smiled  he  showed  his  teeth — and  they  were  neither 
good  nor  even.  If  by  any  chance  one  should  miss 
the  suggestion  of  largeness  about  Paxton  it  would 
probably  be  because  he  had  a  way  of  looking  at  one 
through  cold  gray  eyes  that  permitted  no  one  to 
think  of  him  merely  as  a  large  man.  His  look  had 
the  cutting,  incisive  quality  more  often  found  in 
the  eyes  of  smaller  and  more  energetic  men. 
Warren  K.  Paxton  knew  precisely  what  he  wanted, 
and  could  tell,  at  any  given  time,  just  about  how 
long  it  would  be  before  he  would  get  it. 

He  went  to  his  seat  and  busied  himself  for  a  few 
moments  with  putting  a  magazine  into  a  capacious 
club-bag.  From  all  outward  appearances  he  had 
no  concern  in  the  world  other  than  putting  away 
a  worthless  magazine  that  he  would  not  look  at 
again  anyhow.  But  the  real  truth  of  the  matter 
was  that  Paxton  was  still  turning  over  something 
that  had  occupied  his  mind  ever  since  he  had  step- 
ped on  board '  *  The  Tamarac  * '  at  Winnipeg.  And 
now  with  only  a  few  minutes  left  of  the  journey  to 
The  Pas  he  was  as  far  away  as  ever  from  a  satis- 
factory solution  to  his  problem. 

The  question  that  was  vexing  Paxton 's  mind — 
it  had  kept  him  awake  and  thinking  most  of  the 


26  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

night — was  why  in  the  devil  a  certain  woman  who 
had  no  interest  whatever  in  dog-racing  shonld  be 
going  to  The  Pas  on  the  same  train  with  the  Derby 
crowd. 

The  woman  Who  had  been  the  cause  of  his  sleep- 
lessness was  only  three  seats  away  as  he  stood 
fussing  with  his  club-bag.  She  was  taller  than  the 
average,  two  or  three  years  under  thirty,  very  at- 
tractive physically,  and  with  a  tilt  to  her  head  that 
was  almost  maddening  to  Paxton.  Though  she  was 
dressed  in  a  rather  short,  tight-fitting  skirt  that 
displayed  a  very  trim  ankle  and  neatly  booted  foot, 
one's  attention  was  attracted  more  by  her  head 
with  its  mass  of  black  hair  riotous  above  dark  eyes 
that  were  generously  arched  and  filled  with  pride. 
With  her  was  an  English  maid  who  obeyed  the 
commands  of  her  mistress  and  studied  her  every 
whim  as  if  she  had  been  trained  to  little  else  from 
childhood. 

Paxton  knew  Marion  Curtis,  had  known  her  for 
a  number  of  years  in  fact.  He  had  known  her  as 
a  young  woman  before  she  had  married  Trueman 
Curtis.  He  had  known  her  even  better  since  the 
untimely  death  of  her  husband  had  sent  her  out 
into  the  business  world  to  shift  for  herself. 

He  closed  his  club-bag  with  a  very  resolute  snap 
and  stood  out  in  the  aisle.  Then  quickly  he  turned 
and  walked  forward  in  the  car.  Three  seats  away 
he  paused  and  turned  his  broad  and  ingratiating 
smile  upon  the  woman  who  had  occupied  his  at- 
tention. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  27 

"I  didn't  know  yon  were  interested  in  dog-rac- 
ing, Mrs.  Curtis,"  lie  said  in  an  effort  to  open  a 
pleasant  form  of  conversation. 

"Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Paxton,"  she  returned 
sweetly,  offering  her  hand.  "You  never  can  tell 
what  a  woman  may  find  interesting.  We  never 
know  that  ourselves." 

"I  believe  it,"  Paxton  replied. 

"But  I  assure  you  I  am  interested  in  dog-racing 
— very  much  so,  indeed." 

Her  accent  was  soft  but  carried  a  note  that 
made  her  appear  thoroughly  at  ease  in  the  world. 

"I  suppose,  then,  you're  betting  heavily  on  the 
outcome,"  he  continued  with  an  attempt  at  humor. 

"Oh,  my,  no — not  heavily,  at  any  rate.  I 
wouldn't  mind  placing  a  wager  after  I  get  there 
and  find  out  something  about  the  conditions." 

"Well,"  Paxton  offered,  "I  have  a  little  loose 
change  left.  Let  me  know  when  you're  ready." 

"Fine — I  will!"  she  replied  with  enthusiasm. 
"Are  you  a  good  loser,  Mr.  Paxton?" 

"Always — to  a  lady,"  he  replied. 

"Then,  by  George,  I'm  going  to  try  you  out!" 
she  laughed. 

The  harmless  little  expletive  with  which  she 
adorned  her  last  speech  came  rather  explosively 
from  between  lips  that  were  a  little  too  tight  and 
perhaps  a  little  too  thin.  Warren  K.  Paxton 
didn't  like  those  lips.  He  didn't  like  the  chin, 
either,  that  seemed  to  come  forward  just  a  trifle 
when  she  spoke.  There  was  a  challenge  there  and 

(3) 


28  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

although  Paxton  could  not  but  admire  the  woman 
who  gave  it,  neither  could  he  forget  that  he  had 
lost  a  good  night's  sleep  because  of  it. 

He  looked  at  her  now  and  tried  to  estimate  the 
significance  of  what  he  saw  in  her  face.  He  had 
known  Marion  Curtis  for  nearly  five  years  and 
always  when  in  her  company  he  had  found  him- 
self dropping  unavoidably  into  the  habit  of 
estimating  her. 

"Do  you  know,  Marion  Curtis, "  he  said 
abruptly,  "I've  had  dealings  of  various  kinds 
with,  you  ever  since  your  husband  died — and  be- 
fore— but  I  find  you  just  as  inscrutable  as  ever." 

She  laughed  heartily. 

"Mr.  Paxton,  you  are  positively  funny.  This  is 
at  least  the  third  time  you  have  said  that  very 
thing  to  me." 

Paxton  tried,  with  little  success,  to  conceal  his 
embarrassment. 

"The  third  and  last  time,"  he  replied,  "and  I 
hope  you  take  no  offence  at  what  I  say." 

"Oh,  no — no!"  The  finality  with  which  she 
dismissed  any  such  possibility  was  very  character- 
istic. It  was  not  at  all  necessary  for  her  to  wave 
it  aside  with  a  little  sweep  of  her  hand  nor  to  tilt 
her  chin  very  perceptibly — though  she  did  both — 
to  give  the  impression  she  evidently  desired  to 
give.  The  tone  of  her  voice  was  quite  sufficient. 

Paxton  found  himself  in  even  greater  dif- 
ficulties. 

"I'm  a  clumsy  joker,  Mrs.  Curtis.    My  friends 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  29 

know  that  and  just  put  up  with  it."  At  last  he 
seemed  on  the  point  of  regaining  his  wonted  cool- 
ness. "The  fact  is,  Marion  Curtis,  you'd  be  a 
very  agreeable  sort  of  woman  if  you  weren't  so 
damned  anxious  to  dominate  everyone  about 
you!" 

The  words  came  suddenly  and  with  a  bluntness 
that  was  almost  a  surprise  even  to  Paxton  him- 
self. His  smile  now  did  full  service  as  veneer. 
Marion  Curtis  looked  at  him  once  with  eyes  that 
went  far  beneath  the  smile.  Then  she  laughed  at 
him  again. 

"Do  you  know,  Mr.  Paxton,  you've  said  that  to 
me  before,  too  f  And  besides — you  said  you  were 
a  good  loser.  Surely  you  wouldn't  object  to  being 
dominated  by  a  woman." 

"I  resent  the  suggestion — decidedly,"  Paxton 
replied  in  his  best  humor.  "Not  even  by  a  good 
looking  woman. ' ' 

After  all,  he  thought  to  himself  as  he  walked 
away,  Marion  Curtis  was  a  devilishly  attractive 
woman  with  a  quick  brain  and  a  quick  tongue — 
and  she  had  a  way  with  her.  If  she  could  only  be 
taught  to  keep  her  place  in  the  world  he  could  find 
a  great  deal  in  the  woman  to  admire. 

But  that  was  precisely  what  Marion  Curtis 
could  not  or  would  not  be  taught.  In  fact,  she 
didn't  seem  to  have  the  vaguest  idea  of  what  kind 
of  place  a  woman  should  fill  in  life.  During  the 
brief  three  years  that  she  had  been  the  wife  of 
Trueman  Curtis  she  had  quietly  reclaimed  her 


30  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

young  rake  of  a  husband  while  society  still  shook 
its  head  sadly  over  the  tragic  mistake  she  had 
made  in  marrying  him.  And  then  one  morning 
the  world  awoke  to  find  him  one  of  the  most  suc- 
cessful young  lawyers  in  the  city  with  a  political 
career  opening  straight  before  him.  His  sudden 
death  had  left  Marion  Curtis  a  widow  at  twenty- 
five  and  without  many  serious  regrets. 

She  had  mourned  the  death  of  young  Curtis 
neither  very  long  nor  very  deeply.  Marion  Curtis 
was  at  heart  a  gambler — a  gambler  with  an  un- 
breakable will  of  her  own.  She  had  married  True- 
man  Curtis  partly  out  of  pity  for  a  man  who  was 
consistently  and  uninterruptedly  making  an  ass  of 
himself.  The  temptation  to  take  him  in  hand  and 
make  him  over  was  too  great  for  her  to  resist.  The 
fact  that  a  Higher  Power  had  stepped  in  before 
her  work  was  complete  had  hurt  her  pride  more 
than  anything  else.  And  Marion  Curtis  was  very 
proud.  She  had  relied  upon  pride  When  she  went 
out  to  meet  the  world  after  Curtis  had  been  taken 
out  of  her  life  forever.  Now,  nearly  three  years 
later,  she  was  proud  in  the  knowledge  that  she  had 
never  been  beaten  and  in  the  confidence  that  she 
never  would  be. 

The  station  platform  was  filled  with  a  motley 
northern  crowd  such  as  one  might  expect  to  see  at 
a  carnival  or  a  masquerade  ball.  Men  in 
picturesque  caribou  parkas  decorated  with  bright 
ribbons  of  all  colors  and  bound  about  with  long 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  31 

tasselled  scarfs  stood  'by  smoking  in  silence  as 
they  watched  the  visitors  descend  from  the  train. 
There  were  girls,  too,  in  beaded  moccas-snis  and 
brightly  colored  coats  and  toques,  their  warm 
breaths  whitening  into  little  clouds  in  the  crisp 
air.  Back  against  the  wall  of  'the  station-house  it- 
self stood  an  irregular  line  of  Indians  and  an  oc- 
casional squaw  hunched  into  a  black  shawl,  all 
alike  interested  in  the  new  arrivals  but  showing 
never  a  sign  of  it  in  their  dark  faces. 

Marion  Curtis  stepped  down  lightly  to  the  plat- 
form and  shook  her  shoulders  briskly  as  she  drew 
her  first  deep  breath  of  northern  air.  Warren  K. 
Paxton  stood  only  a  few  feet  away  doing  his  best 
to  smile  amiably. 

"It's  cold  up  here  but  you  don't  feel  it,"  he 
said  jocularly. 

"I  think  it's  positively  wonderful!"  she  replied 
with  enthusiasm. 

"Wonderful — good  Lord!"  Paxton  exclaimed. 
"Marion  Curtis,  you're  unconscious — you're 
freezing  to  death — that's  what's  the  matter.  Do 
you  notice  a  sleepy  feeling  creeping  over  you. 
That's  a  sure  sign." 

She  did  not  reply  at  once.  She  gave  no  sign 
even  that  she  had  caught  his  little  joke.  Her  eyes 
were  fixed  on  a  marvellous  team  of  five  black  and 
gray  huskies  and  their  driver  standing  leisurely 
beside  them,  one  hand  on  the  head  of  his  big  lead- 
dog,  the  other  toying  with  a  long  whip. 

"I  don't  think  I  was  ever  more  awake  in  my 


32  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

life,  Mr.  Paxton,"  she  declared  without  shifting 
her  gaze.  "Did  you  ever  see  such  wonderful 
dogs?" 

Paxton  turned  to  look  in  the  direction  she 
indicated. 

"Huh!  You've  picked  the  prize  team  of  the 
north  country.  Don't  put  any  money  on  them, 
though.  They're  good  looking  and  they  can  haul 
a  load,  but  they  haven't  the  speed." 

"By  George,  I'd  rather  bet  on  that  team  and 
lose  than  win  a  thousand  on  any  other!"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"You'll  find  lots  to  take  your  money,  young  wo- 
man. Better  appoint  me  your  trustee  for  the 
duration  of  the  visit.  Here — I'll  give  you  the  first 
thrill  of  your  visit,  Mrs.  Curtis,"  he  said  sud- 
denly. "Come  along  and  I'll  get  him  to  take  you 
to  your  hotel.  I  know  him  well  enough  to  break 
the  ice — and  he's  a  little  different  from  the  rest 
of  them.  Come  on — 111  be  responsible." 

He  stepped  briskly  towards  the  end  of  the  plat- 
form and  Marion  Curtis  followed  him. 

"Came  here  five  years  ago — a  regular  booze 
artist,"  Paxton  murmured,  half-covering  his 
mouth  with  one  hand  and  casting  his  eyes  towards 
the  young  fellow  standing  by  his  dogs.  ' '  Cleaned 
right  up — altogether  a  decent  sort  of  fellow  — 
name's  Brander — Kirk  Brander — nephew  of  old 
Henry  Tyne  's — you  know. ' ' 

"Kirk  Brander  I"  she  asked  in  surprise.  For 
once  Marion  Curtis  was  caught  off  her  guard. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TKAIL  33 

"Yes — you  know  him?" 

"Oh,  no — it's  rather  a  nice  name,  don't  you 
think!    It  seems  to  me " 


But  they  were  already  beside  Kirk  and  Paxton 
was  busy  with  the  introduction".  Marion  Curtis 
extended  her  hand  cordially  and  smiled.  For  a 
moment  she  experienced  a  small  panic  lest  Kirk 
should  unwittingly  drop  a  word  that  might  give 
Paxton  further  food  for  thought. 

But  Kirk's  smile,  cordial  as  it  was,  revealed 
nothing  and  his  words  bespoke  merely  the  wel- 
come which  the  northland  extended  to  all  its 
visitors. 

Paxton  lost  no  time  in  suggesting  to  Kirk  that 
he  should  drive  Marion  Curtis  to  her  hotel,  and 
after  a  few  minutes  spent  in  giving  directions  to 
her  maid  she  accepted  Kirk's  invitation  to  a  seat 
in  his  cariole.  When  he  had  tucked  the  robes 
snugly  about  her  he  gave  a  sharp  whistle, 
flourished  his  long  whip  in  the  air,  and  the  dogs 
were  off. 

No  word  was  spoken  by  either  of  them  as  the 
dogs  sped  along,  down  one  street  after  another, 
towards  the  centre  of  the  town'.  Seated  in  the 
cariole,  Marion  Curtis  was  tasting  the  joys  of  her 
first  ride  behind  a  dog  team.  Behind  her,  running 
close  to  the  end  of  the  cariole,  Kirk  divided  his  at- 
tention between  his  dogs  and  his  passenger,  who 
from  the  first  glance  she  had  given  him  out  of  her 
dark  eyes,  had  held  a  strange  but  compelling 
fascination  for  him. 


34  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Kirk  had  had  enough  experience  in  life  to  know 
precisely  the  nature  of  the  appeal  which  Marion 
Curtis  made  to  him.  As  yet  he  had  seen  nothing 
of  her  dominating  business  ability  except  what  he 
had  caught  in  the  first  look  she  had  given  him 
when  they  had  been  introduced  by  Paxton.  Of 
that  he  was  to  know  more  later.  What  he  knew 
now  was  that  she  was  a  woman,  with  a  woman's 
eyes  and  a  woman's  voice,  and  the  subtle  sugges- 
tion of  sex  made  him  wish  he  could  put  his  hand 
out  to  where  she  sat  beneath  him  and  lay  it  upon 
the  soft  fur  that  closed  snugly  about  her  neck.  At 
the  next  thought  he  almost  cursed  his  uncle.  Could 
it  be  possible  that  foxy  old  Henry  Tyne  had  sent 
Marion  Curtis  into  the  north  country  simply  to 
lead  Kirk  back  to  him? 

The  suspicion  lingered  with  him  still  as  he  drew 
his  dogs  to  a  standstill  before  the  hotel  and  taking 
her  hand  assisted  her  to  her  feet  and  out  upon 
the  sidewalk  where  she  stood  a  moment  smiling  at 
him,  her  cheeks  flaming  from  the  ride  in  the  frosty 
morning  air. 

Suddenly  the  smile  vanished  from  her  face  and 
her  voice  assumed  a  tone  that  was  quite  matter-of- 
fact. 

"It  was  very  fortunate  to  meet  yon  just  like 
this,"  she  said.  "I  had  wondered  a  little  on  the 
way  up  just  how  I  should  find  you  without  draw- 
ing too  much  attention,  especially  from  our  friend, 
Paxton.  You  have  heard  from  your  uncle?" 

Kirk  nodded  an  affirmative. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  35 

"Did  he  tell  you  anything — anything  important. 

"Nothing  except  that  I  was  to  take  my  in- 
structions from  you, ' '  Kirk  replied. 

"Well,  we  can't  talk  here.  You  can  see  me 
soon?  We  must  have  a  little  talk  to  explain  just 
why  I've  come.  When  can  you  see  me?" 

"Any  time,"  Kirk  replied,  "though  perhaps 
we'd  better  leave  it  till  after  the  race." 

"Are  you  going  to  run,  then?"  she  asked  IOOK- 
ing  at  the  dogs. 

' i  No,  but  I  'm  interested  in  a  friend  of  mine  who 
is  going  to  win. ' ' 

"You  must  drop  in  to  see  me  anyhow  before 
the  race.  I'd  like  to  make  a  little  bet  with  Pax- 
ton.  He  seemed  keen  on  getting  me  into  it.  I 
don't  know  much  about  the  game — perhaps  you 
could  instruct  me." 

She  turned  and  was  about  to  go  but  halted  sud- 
denly and  looked  back  at  Kirk.  As  she  did  so 
Paxton  came  swinging  down  the  street.  Walking 
beside  him  was  Phil  Roche. 

"When  I  have  settled  on  who  the  'winner's  go- 
ing to  be,"  Marion  Curtis  said  when  Paxton  had 
come  up,  "I've  a  hundred  or  so  that  I'd  like  to  use 
just  to  draw  you  out." 

"Good!"  replied  Paxton,  "my  mind's  settled 
now. ' '  He  put  his  hand  on  Phil  Roche 's  shoulder. 
"Meet  Phil  Roche,  the  winner  of  the  Derby,"  he 
announced  by  way  of  introduction. 

Marion  Curtis  bowed  and  Kirk  smiled  a  little 
«it  Paxton 's  assertion  of  confidence  in  his  favorite. 


36  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"Isn't  that  right?"  Paxton  enquired  of  him. 

"I  call  Tuck  Koberts  to  win,"  Kirk  replied 
simply. 

"For  how  much?"  Paxton  asked  and  Koche 
stepped  closer. 

"A  thousand,  even  money." 

"And  five  hundred  of  mine  with  it"  suddenly 
put  in  Marion  Curtis. 

Paxton  and  Eoche  spoke  a  few  words  together. 

Then,  "Done!"  said  Paxton. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AS  KEEK  drove  down  the  street  he  could  not 
help  a  feeling  of  something  like  resent- 
ment rising  within  him — though  at  whom 
he  was  resentful  he  could  not  have  clearly  ex- 
plained. Marion  Curtis,  beautiful  and  com- 
pelling, had  made  the  sort  of  appeal  to  him  that 
left  him  annoyed  with  himself  and  out  of  sorts 
with  the  world  in  general. 

But  even  as  he  thought  about  it  he  was  aware  of 
someone  speaking  to  him  and  looking  up  his  eyes 
met  those  of  Euth  Mackay,  soft  and  smiling  and 
chiding  him  in  their  gentleness. 

"Dog-gone  it,  Euth,"  he  said,  shaking  her  hana 
and  looking  into  her  dark  eyes,  "but  you're 
prettier  every  time  I  see  you.  If  you  get  any  bet- 
ter I'm  going  to  shoot  Tuck  Egberts  and  run  away 
with  you  myself." 

Euth  blushed  a  little  and  then  going  to  the  lead- 
dog  stooped  and  put  her  arms  about  his  shaggy 
neck. 

"Dear  old  Bingo  remembers  me,  too,  Kirk," 
she  cried  delightedly.  "Oh,  he's  a  beauty!" 

In  Euth  Mackay,  the  only  daughter  of  a  re- 
tired servant  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  who 
had  taken  to  prospecting  with  abundance  of  luck, 

37 


38  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

there  was  the  dark  strain  of  Cree  blood  that  came 
to  her  from  her  mother's  side  some  three  gener- 
ations back.  But  Kirk  had  always  felt  her  beauty 
had  been  enhanced  by  it.  At  any  rate  Tuck 
Eoberts  loved  her  and  Kirk  wanted  no  other 
prompting.  And  there* was  much  in  the  girl's  ap- 
pearance to  justify  not  only  Tuck  Eoberts  but  any 
man  in  falling  in  love  with  her. 

Kirk  stood  for  a  moment  looking  down  at  the 
two.  In  the  girl's  head  with  its  rich  brown  hair 
lying  upon  her  soft  neck  and  in  her  face  with  its 
large  soft  brown  eyes  and  full,  clear,  rounded 
cheeks  there  was  everything  that  suggested 
tenderness  and  gentleness  and  woman's  love.  In 
Bingo 's  grizzled  face,  its  pointed,  tufted  ears,  its 
square;  broad  forehead  and  wolf-like  jaws  covered 
with  a  mixture  of  black  and  gray  hair,  its  white 
fangs  just  showing  from  between  3iis  lips  on 
which  there  was  a  constant  suggestion  of  a  snarl, 
and  its  eyes,  small,  piercing,  with  a  smouldering 
fire  within — there  may  have  been  something  of 
fierce  beauty  in  it  but  it  was  a  face  in  which  no 
one  but  the  fondest  lover  of  dogs  could  find  the 
first  trace  of  affection.  Kirk  had  always  loved  his 
leader  and  had  always  trusted  him,  too,  but  he 
knew  that  Bingo  was  not  a  dog  to  be  trifled  with. 
And  so  he  treated  him  always  seriously,  giving 
him  cause  at  no  time  to  doubt  his  mastery. 

Kirk  stooped  to  look  his  dogs  over  while  Ruth 
stood  watching  him.  From  one  dog  to  another  he 
went,  lifting  their  feet  in  his  hands  and  examining 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  39 

them  carefully.  When  he  came  finally  to  Bingo 
he  spent  rather  longer  and  scrutinized  the  soft 
pads  on  the  dog's  feet  very  closely.  In  spite  of 
the  long  journey  Bingo 's  feet  were  in  perfect  con- 
dition. Kirk  ran  his  fingers  up  the  muscles  of  the 
dog's  fore-legs  and  over  the  shaggy,  bulging  chest 
where  it  showed  deep  and  well  to  the  front  be- 
tween the  dog's  shoulders. 

'* Bingo,  you  old  rascal,"  he  said,  slapping  the 
dog's  shoulders  and  pulling  at  the  long  coarse  hair 
on  his  neck,  "nothing  could  kill  you — nothing,  un- 
less too  much  attention." 

He  got  to  his  feet. 

"Tell  your  dad  I'm  coming  in  to  see  him  soon — 
and  have  a  big  plate  of  those  griddle  cakes  all 
ready  with  a  side  dish  of  those  red  raspberries 
I  helped  you  pick  last  summer.  Let  me  call  for 
you  and  take  you  down  to  see  the  start  of  the 
race,"  he  said  as  he  swung  his  team  out  into  the 
street  again. 

"Will  you  bring  the  team1?"  she  asked. 

"  Sure  thing.    Be  ready  about  five. ' ' 

He  drove  away  leaving  Euth  smiling  and  waving 
to  him  from  the  sidewalk. 

With  the  race  only  a  few  hours  away  the  town 
was  a-stir  with  flutterings  of  gossip  on  the  big 
event.  There  was  a  touch  almost  of  spring  soft- 
ness in  the  air  and  not  a  trace  was  left 
of  the  big  blizzard  that  had  swept  the  country 
three  days  before,  except  the  huge  banks  of 
snow  that  lay  in  the  streets  and  blocked  the  trails 


40  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

where  they  led  in  different  directions  ont  of  town. 

The  racers  themselves  were  very  little  in  evi- 
denceu  The  element  of  suspicion  does  not  play  a 
large  part  among  men  whose  life  is  lived  for  the 
most  part  in  the  open,  but  no  man  takes  a  chance 
in  a  game  where  the  stakes  are  worth  playing  for. 
Every  man  spent  the  day  with  his  dogs  and  car- 
ried out  his  preparations  quietly  and  unobserved. 

At  noon  the  racers  came  together  to  meet  the 
Derby  committee  and  hear  the  chairman  read  the 
conditions  under  which  the  race  was  to  be  run. 
The  course  was  laid  from  a  point  on  the  river  to 
the  house  of  a  trader  at  Sturgeon  Landing,  fifty 
miles  away,  the  race  to  be  run  over  the  full  course 
and  back  again,  finishing  at  the  starting  point  on 
the  river.  A  line  which  marked  the  starting  and 
finishing  points  had  already  been  set  and  posi- 
tions at  the  start  were  to  be  drawn  for  when  the 
teams  were  ready  to  take  their  places.  The  time 
set  for  the  start  was  five  minutes  after  six  in  the 
evening  and  late-comers  would  have  to  accept  the 
handicap  or  drop  out  of  the  running. 

On  one  point  particularly  Bob  Harkwell,  the 
chairman,  laid  special  emphasis.  "In  the  event  of 
one  team  overhauling  another  and  wishing  to  pass, 
it  was  to  be  understood  that  only  the  most  sports- 
manlike conditions  could  be  tolerated.  No  ob- 
structions other  than  those  offered  naturally  by 
the  conditions  of  the  trail  over  which  they  were 
travelling  could  be  countenanced." 

"If  a  man  wants  to  use  his  whip  when  another 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  41 

team  is  trying  to  pass  him, ' '  Harkwell  explained, 
"he  must  throw  it  low  and  on  the  side  of  his  team 
away  from  the  team  that's  coming  up.  Is  that 
clear?" 

There  was  a  general  murmur  of  assent  and  ap- 
proval. 

"By  gar,"  broke  in  a  French  half-breed  who 
had  entered  his  team  in  the  race,  "I  lak  see  any 
man  t'row  de  w'ip  at  my  dog.  You  have  to  send 
out  an'  bring  him  in — he  can't  come  in  alone, 
that's  sure  I" 


CHAPTER  V. 

WITH  everything  set  for  the  race  Kirk  left 
Tuck  with  his  dogs  and  went  -back  to  the 
hotel.  Once  in  his  room  he  spent  a  good 
half  hour  standing  before  his  window  engrossed 
in  his  own  thoughts.  The  sky  was  a  perfect 
winter  blue  and  the  sunlight  lay  warm  upon  the 
snow.  Straight  before  him  lay  the  flat  white 
breadth  of  the  river  and  beyond  it  the  tree-covered 
wilds  that  reached  on  and  out  to  where  lay  the 
great  silent  valleys  and  the  far  forgotten  hills. 
His  pulse  quickened  as  he  gazed  and  he  involun- 
tarily drew  a  long,  deep  breath  as  if  he  wished  to 
take  into  his  very  heart  all  that  lay  before  him, 
its  majestic  beauty,  its  white  expansiveness,  its 
age-long  challenge,  its  mighty  spirit. 

There  was  undoubtedly  a  newly-awakened  in- 
terest in  the  limitless  possibilities  of  this  great 
north  country.  Men  of  means  and  the  big  in- 
terests both  in  Canada  and  in  the  United  States 
were  turning  their  eyes  in  the  direction  of  this, 
probably  the  last,  unexploited  mineral  district  on 
the  continent.  What  the  ultimate  effect  of  this 
newly-awakened  interest  would  be  time  alone 
could  tell.  But  there  was  enough  of  the  gambler 
in  Kirk  Brander  to  wish  that  he  might  be  on  hand 

42 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  43 

to  watch  this  new  game,  the  great  game  where 
men  of  means  would  play  strong  hands  to  win  big 
stakes.  And  as  he  thought  of  it  all  he  felt  his 
lately  renewed  enthusiasm  for  the  big  cities  some- 
what dampened. 

He  would  find  Marion  Curtis  at  once  and  hear 
her  story.  If  his  good  old  uncle  was  going  to  be 
one  of  the  men  in  the  game,  the  sooner  Kirk 
Brander,  his  runaway  nephew,  learned  all  there 
was  to  know  about  it  the  better. 

He  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  shortly  after 
three  o'clock.  He  turned  abruptly  from  the 
window  and  left  the  room.  In  response  to  his 
knock,  Marion  Curtis  herself  opened  her  door  and 
greeted  him  with  her  rare  smile. 

"Come  in,"  she  said  simply.  "Do  you  know  I 
was  almost  expecting  you — hoping  you  might  drop 
along,  at  least.  I  am  just  going  to  have  a  cup  of 
tea." 

Kirk  entered  and  allowed  his  eyes  to  rest  a 
moment  OB  the  white-spread  table  with  its  burden 
of  china  and  refreshments. 

"You  put  me  under  obligation  to  you  very  early 
in  our  acquaintance,  Mrs.  Curtis,"  Kirk  observed. 

"You  are  not  quite  fair,"  she  reproved  him 
gently.  "I'm  sure  the  offering  of  an  innocent 
cup  of  tea  should  not  be  looked  upon  so  seriously. " 

"Well,  it's  mighty  good  of  you,  anyhow,"  Kirk 
replied,  and  took  the  chair  which  she  offered  him 
at  the  little  table. 


44 

With  a  word  to  her  maid  she  took  her  place 
opposite  him  and  prepared  to  serve  the  tea. 

"Are  we  prepared  to  talk  business,"  she  asked 
with  a  smile,  "or  is  there  too  much  excitement 
in  the  air  to-day?" 

"I  shall  be  governed  entirely  by  your  wishes 
in  the  matter,"  Kirk  replied. 

"I  didn't  expect  to  get  so  gallant  a  reply  from 
a — a  man  of  the  woods,"  she  responded  and  there 
was  something  almost  coquettish  in  her  manner 
as  she  spoke. 

"Gallantry  is  always  a  matter  of  occasion,"  re- 
turned Kirk,  "occasion  and  inspiration." 

'  *  Good, ' '  she  laughed.  ' '  Perhaps  the  individual 
has  something  to  do  with  it,  too,  however.  I  can't 
see  our  big  friend — Paxton's  favorite — what  was 
his  name?" 

"Phil  Eoche,"  Kirk  prompted. 

"Yes.  I  can't  see  him  in  the  role  of  a  gallant, 
for  instance." 

"You  have  to  understand  Phil,"  Kirk  protested. 
"He's  not  half  so  bad  as  he  looks.  And  besides — 
Phil  hasn't  had  the  kind  of  treatment  that  is 
likely  to  make  courtiers  of  men." 

"Oh — a  woman  there  too?" 

"Isn't  it  always  so?" 

"Well,  that  may  be  a  matter  of  opinion,"  Mar- 
ion suggested.  "Still — tell  me  about  it." 

She  had  begun  to  pour  tea  as  she  spoke  and 
Kirk  could  not  help  noticing  the  softer  tone  that 
had  crept  into  her  voice.  He  was  not  unconscious 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  45 

of  her  physical  beauty  as  he  looked  at  her  but 
now  it  was  the  beauty  of  her  voice  that  appealed 
to  him,  a  voice  that  had  grown  strangely  soft  and 
held  nothing  of  the  brnsque,  matter-of-fact  quality 
that  he  had  associated  with  her  when  they  had 
first  met  that  morning. 

And  so  Kirk  undertook  to  tell  her  the  story  of 
Phil  Roche  and  his  unfortunate  love  for  Jule 
Allen,  the  daughter  of  old  John  Allen  of  the  White 
Squaw  mine.  His  telling,  moreover,  was  almost 
an  apology  for  Phil  Roche — he  believed  in  giving 
the  devil  his  due,  be  the  devil  never  so  black. 

If  one  circumstance  is  sufficient  to  damn  a  man's 
life,  then  Kirk  felt  that  Phil  Roche  had  a  fairly 
good  case.  From  time  to  time  stray  bits  of  news 
had  gone  about  concerning  a  girl  who  had  been 
seen  only  three  or  four  times  by  the  trappers  and 
prospectors  who  explored  the  northern  woods  and 
waterways  by  winter  and  summer.  Gossip  had 
made  the  girl  surpassingly  beautiful — much  too 
beautiful  to  be  true — and  scores  of  strange  stories 
had  been  invented  concerning  her  origin  and  her 
place  of  residence.  Naturally  much  mystery  sur- 
rounded her,  mystery  that  was  spun  for  the  most 
part  about  the  warm  stoves  in  such  places  as  Wu 
Long's  restaurant.  That  invention  was  frequent- 
ly overdone  might  be  excused  in  the  light  of  the 
fact  that  for  a  long  time  there  were  very  few 
facts  on  which  to  draw  for  support. 

When  men  have  spun  a  fine  mystery  for  them- 
selves they  dislike  nothing  so  much  as  having  it 


46  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

treated  rudely.  For  months  it  had  been  accepted 
as  settled  that  the  girl  was  a  white  squaw  whom 
the  natives  of  the  wilds  kept  hidden  because  of  her 
rare  beauty.  It  was  a  shock,  therefore,  when  it 
became  known  that  she  was  none  other  than  Jule 
Allen,  the  daughter  of  the  eccentric  old  English- 
man, John  Allen.  Old  man  Allen  and  his  daughter 
had  entered  the  district  by  way  of  the  Saskatche- 
wan from  the  west  and  having  once  settled  in  a 
spot  of  their  own  choosing,  nestled  down  and  let 
the  rest  of  the  world  pass  unnoticed.  But  this  dis- 
covery produced  only  a  small  flutter  of  surprise 
compared  with  the  later  announcement  that  Phil 
Eoche  had  returned  from  a  couple  of  months' 
prospecting  in  the  Ripple  Creek  district  with  the 
news  that  he  had  met  Jule  Allen  and  was  going 
back  to  take  the  wood-nymph  of  the  northern  wilds 
for  his  wife.  Eoche  himself  was  not  generally 
liked  and  the  thought  of  his  marrying  one  whosQ 
being  was  something  more  than  human  in  the 
minds  of  the  more  imaginative  produced  much 
discussion  that  was  anything  but  pleasant.  For 
a  couple  of  weeks  they  had  awaited  the  appearance 
of  old  John  Allen  in  town  in  the  hope  that  the  old 
Englishman,  would  settle  their  doubts  and  allay 
their  fears. 

But  John  Allen  did  not  come.  And  one  day  Phil 
Eoche  and  his  near-slave,  Joe  Bedard,  were  miss- 
ing from  town  and  speculation  was  rife  once  more. 
About  a  week  later  he  returned,  accompanied  by 
Bedard — but  no  bride. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  47 

For  days  Roche  refused  to  answer  the  pointed 
enquiries  that  were  directed  at  him.  Bedard 
seemed  not  even  to  hear  the  questions  that  were 
shot  at  him  from  every  side.  When  the  wise  ones 
began  to  draw  wry  faces  and  put  their  tongues  in 
their  cheeks  or  wink  knowingly  when  the  affair 
was  mentioned,  Phil  Eoche  became  at  first 
angry,  then  frigidly  dignified.  Finally  an  old 
missionary  arrived  from  Cumberland  House  with 
a  couple  of  Indians.  A  few  days  later  the  story 
of  Roche's  disappointment  was  being  circulated 
freely  among  the  men. 

Roche,  it  appeared,  had  arrived  at  Cumberland 
House  on  the  appointed  day  and  had  gone  im- 
mediately to  the  priest  in  charge  of  the  mission 
there.  In  answer  to  the  missionary's  questioning 
look,  Roche  had  told  him  that  the  bride-to-be 
would  be  on  hand  sometime  during  the  afternoon. 
Roche  had  gone  immediately  to  the  shore  at  a 
point  overlooking  the  lake  and  had  waited  there 
until  evening.  About  sunset  Jule  Allen  had  ar- 
rived in  a  canoe  with  two  Indians  and  had  joined 
Roche.  Together  they  had  sat  on  the  shore  until 
dark,  Jule's  two  Indians  and  Joe  Bedard  squat- 
ting beside  the  canoes  at  the  edge  of  the  water 
some  hundred  yards  away.  There  had  been  some- 
thing approaching  an  argument  between  Roche 
and  Jule,  escape  from  which  Jule  had  effected  by 
calling  her  two  Indians  to  her.  They  had  escorted 
her  to  her  canoe  and  had  pushed  out  across  the 
lake  in  the  gathering  darkness,  leaving  Roche  and 


48  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Bedard  standing  on  the  shore.  Eoche  had  been 
furious  at  first,  then  realizing  hcrw  little  he  could 
gain  from  anger,  had  turned  philosophical,  con- 
signed women  in  general  to  perdition,  took  a  nor- 
mal night's  rest,  slipped  away  early  the  next 
morning  with  Joe  Bedard,  and  returned  to  The 
Pas. 

Buf  no  one  ever  knew  why  Jule  Allen  had  failed 
to  live  up  to  her  agreement  with  Phil  Roche,  and 
the  girl  herself  never  came  to  town  to  give  anyone 
an  opportunity  of  learning  her  side  of  the  story. 
That  her  action  came  to  be  looked  upon  with  gen- 
eral disfavor  was  only  natural  even  though  Phil 
Eoche  had  few  qualities  to  commend  him  to  the 
favor  of  those  who  knew  him. 

"And  do  you  share  the  feeling  that  the  others 
have  for  Jule  Allen?"  Marion  Curtis  asked  Kirk 
when  he  had  finished  telling  her  the  story. 

Kirk  considered  a  while  before  he  made  answer. 

"I  have  seen  Jule  Allen  only  once,"  he  replied 
finally.  "That  was  four  years  ago,  and  she  was 
a  mere  girl  then.  She  is  a  woman  now.  She  was 
a  woman  last  summer  when  she  met  Phil  Eoche. 
A  woman  that's  worth  anything  doesn't  do  that 
kind  of  thing." 

"You  almost  make  me  hope  that  Phil  Eoche 
wins  the  race,"  she  said  smiling. 

Then  briefly  she  told  him  of  the  hopes  she  had 
once  entertained  and  the  harsh  fate  that  had 
intervened  just  when  it  seemed  she  was  about  to 


THE  LQBSTICK  TRAIL  49 

realize  them.  Kirk  listened  and  felt  again  the 
deep  appeal  of  her  voice. 

"You  will  permit  me  to  say  that  I  am  sorry," 
he  said  when  she  paused  finally. 

"I  know  you  are  sincere  when  you  say  that/' 
she  said,  "but  regrets  are  not  at  all  necessary.  I 
know  how  to  lose  without  whimpering.  And  I  have 
put  all  that  behind  me.  Warren  Paxton  and  his 
set  have  dogged  my  tracks  without  ceasing  ever 
since  I  began  to  show  them  that  I  could  get  along 
without  the  help  of  a  brilliant  husband.  And  we  Ve 
got  Paxton  in  a  game  now  that's  going  to  be  won 
by  the  best  man.  He's  in — he  can't  get  out — he's 
got  to  go  in  farther.  And  in  the  end  he's  got  to 
take  his  licking,  by  George,  or  Marion  Curtis  has 
to  take  it.  I'm  not  superstitious  but  if  Phil  Eoche 
wins  this  race  Warren  Paxton  will  take  it  as  a 
good  omen.  I  want  his  money  now  if  I  put  a  match 
to  it  as  soon  as  I  get  it.  I'm  going  to  play  him 
right  across  the  table  until  he's  had  enough." 

When  she  had  finished  speaking  she  looked 
steadily  at  Kirk  a  moment. 

"What  I  want  to  know  is,  are  you  in  the  game 
too?"  she  said,  and  her  voice  had  lost  all  its  mel- 
lowness. 

Kirk  considered  a  moment. 

"I  don't  know  much  about  it  yet,"  he  said 
slowly,  "but — is  Henry  Tyne  in  it?" 

"It's  almost  life  or  death  to  Henry  Tyne,"  she 
declared. 

"Then  it's  life  or  death  to  me,"  Kirk  replied. 


CHAPTER  VL 

FIFTEEN  minntes  before  the  time  announced 
for  the  start  Kirk  swung  his  team  over  the 
high  bank  of  the  river  and  down  the  trail 
that  led  to  the  ice-level.  In  the  cariole  sat  Ruth 
Mackay,  a  light  robe  tucked  about  her,  observing 
with  admiration  and  satisfaction  the  spirited 
movements  of  the  dogs  with  Bingo  in  the  lead. 
Already  a  number  of  the  teams  were  in  their 
places  waiting  for  the  word  to  go  and  the  crowd 
had  been  gathering  for  more  than  half  an  hour. 
Following  close  behind  Kirk  came  Tuck  Roberts, 
his  dogs  yelping  and  snapping  in  their  eagerness 
for  action.  At  the  sight  of  Tuck's  approach  a 
cheer  went  up  that  brought  a  smile  to  Ruth's  face 
as  she  turned  and  looked  behind  her,  first  at 
Tuck's  racers  and  then  at  Kirk  Brander. 

"I  believe  they  want  us  to  win, ' '  she  said  simply. 

But  even  as  she  spoke  a  second  cheer  rose  from 
the  crowd  and  looking  behind  him  as  he  ran  Kirk 
saw  Phil  Roche  and  his  team  dropping  down  in 
the  trail  behind  him.  Then  as  they  broke  through 
the  crowd  and  the  teams  took  their  positions  be- 
fore the  starting  line,  Kirk  had  a  glimpse  of  Mar- 
ion Curtis,  radiant  and  smiling,  standing  beside 
Warren  Paxton, 

so 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  51 

Then,  with  a  strange  presentment  of  evil,  Bark 
noticed  for  the  first  time  the  figures  of  Jim  Ca- 
vanagh  and  Sergeant  Keene  of  the  Mounted 
Police  pushing  their  way  quietly  through 
the  crowd.  They  had  evidently  just  arrived 
and  Kirk  sensed  something  unpleasant  in 
their  manner  as  they  approached  Bob  Harkwell 
of  the  race  committee  and  held  him  in  conference 
for  a  few  minutes.  It  was  evident  from  the  hush 
that  gradually  came  upon  the  crowd  that  Kirk's 
vague  fears  were  shared  by  others  besides  him- 
self. 

When  they  had  finished  their  talk,  Harkwell, 
Cavanagh  and  Keene  left  their  place  near  the 
starting-line  and  made  their  way  towards  Kirk. 
When  they  were  within  a  few  yards  of  him,  Ca- 
vanagh beckoned  to  Kirk  and  the  three  men  waited 
until  he  joined  them. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Jim?"  Kirk  asked  as  he 
came  within  easy  speaking  distance. 

Cavanagh 's  voice  was  quiet  and  altogether  inof- 
fensive. 

"Get  Tuck  over  here  for  a  minute,"  he  replied. 

Kirk  left  at  once  and  in  a  moment  returned  ac- 
companied by  Tuck. 

"Sorry  to  have  to  step  in  on  yon  like  this, 
boys,"  Cavanagh  explained,  "but  I  have  my  work 
to  do." 

"You  don't  mean — "  Kirk  began. 

Cavanagh  was  serious.    "I'm  damn'  sorry  to 


52  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

have  to  say  so,  Brander,  but  the  trail  from  that 
fur  cache  seems  to  lead  here." 

"Where?" 

"Tuck." 

The  word  struck  Kirk  like  a  knife-thrust.  He 
turned  to  Tuck  and  looked  at  him. 

"Why — Tuck!"  he  appealed. 

But  Tuck  gave  him  no  reply.  He  was  standing 
motionless,  his  face  white  and  expressionless,  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  Cavanagh  and  Keene. 

The  crowd,  looking  for  sensation,  moved  in 
about  the  small  group,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
even  the  drivers  left  their  teams  for  a  few  hurried 
moments  to  learn  what  they  could  of  the  startling 
turn  affairs  had  taken.  Eoche,  having  left  his 
team  with  Joe  Bedard  whose  own  team  was  next 
to  Koche's  at  the  starting  line,  pressed  close  and 
listened  attentively  to  every  word. 

"Awful  foolish  of  Tuck,"  he  remarked  to  a  by- 
stander. 

Kirk  pressed  Cavanagh  for  an  explanation, 
but  the  constable  warned  him  that  the  interests 
of  everyone  concerned  would  be  best  served  by 
leaving  any  discussion  of  the  affair  until  the 
proper  time  had  arrived.  Bail  to  any  amount  was 
offered  but  the  serious  nature  of  the  crime  and 
the  circumstances  attending  it  made  it  impossible 
for  either  Cavanagh  or  Keene  to  consider  any  step 
that  would  give  their  man  an  opportunity  of  slip- 
ping from  their  grasp. 

Kirk's  mind  worked  quickly.  With  Tuck  out  of 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  53 

the  race  a  dozen  unpleasant  eventualities  arose. 
Kirk  himself  could  do  nothing  'by  staying  behind. 
He  looked  at  Harkwell. 

'  *  Will  the  committee  allow  me  to  run  for  Tuck  ? ' ' 
he  asked. 

Harkwell  called  his  committee  hurriedly  and  af- 
ter a  few  seconds '  consultation  Kirk's  request 
was  granted. 

"I  want  to  take  out  Tuck's  leader  and  throw 
Bingo  into  his  place,"  Kirk  said  to  Harkwell 
when  the  chairman  had  given  his  consent  to  Kirk's 
entering  the  field. 

tCNo  rule  against  that,  Brander,"  the  chairman 
replied.  "Finish  with  the  same  dogs  you  start 
out  with  and  there'll  be  no  kick  coming." 

Kirk  went  at  once  to  his  team  and,  with  the 
crowd  looking  on,  began  taking  Bingo  out  of  the 
harness.  While  he  was  engaged  in  the  task,  Roche 
pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd  and  stood  for  a 
moment  above  him. 

**Is  this  right  about  you  takin'  Tuck's  place?" 
he  asked. 

Kirk  looked  up. 

"Have  you  any  kick  on  it?"  he  asked. 

Koche  grinned. 

"Why,  no,  Brander,"  he  replied.  "Come  on  in. 
But  I  didn't  think  you'd  do  that." 

"Do  what?" 

Eoche  laughed.  "What?  for  Gawd's  sake  — 
Kirk  Brander  goin'  sub  for  a  fur-sneak!" 

The   flame   leaped   within   Kirk's   heart.    He 


54  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

sprang  to  his  feet  and  looked  at  Roche  for  a  frac- 
tion of  a  second  across  the  narrow  space  that 
separated  them.  In  his  eyes  burned  the  fires  of  a 
man  who  had  been  stung  almost  to  madness.  The 
next  moment  he  would  have  launched  himself 
against  Roche  who  had  stepped  back  suddenly  on 
the  defensive.  But  there  was  a  quick  movement 
among  the  men  standing  close  to  him  and  strong 
arms  were  about  him  before  he  could  move.  Koche, 
having  recovered  from  his  first  surprise,  had  to  be 
held  back  in  like  manner  and  the  two  stood  facing 
each  other  across  the  small  open  circle,  the  arms 
of  each  held  by  at  least  a  half-dozen  men  almost  as 
strong  as  themselves. 

Close  by  stood  Marion  Curtis,  her  eyes  flashing 
from  excitement.  But  Euth  Mackay  came  between 
the  men  and  facing  Kirk  looked  at  him  with  her 
soft  dark  eyes  wet  with  tears. 

"The  race,  Kirk,"  she  said  quietly,  struggling 
to  keep  the  sob  out  of  her  voice. 

Kirk  turned  at  once  to  his  work  and  in  a  few 
minutes  he  was  in  his  position  ready  for  the  start. 
For  a  moment  only  did  he  take  his  attention  from 
his  team  and  that  was  to  step  aside  once  and  grip 
the  hand  of  Tuck  Roberts  who  waited  between 
Cavanagh  and  Keene  to  see  the  dogs  get  off.  No 
word  passed  between  them.  Tuck  smiled  a  little 
but  Kirk's  face  was  set. 

^  At  five  minutes  to  six  the  teams  were  all  in  posi- 
tion—some twenty  in  all— and  the  men  eager  to  be 
off.  The  trail  led  'before  them  up  the  river  into 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  55 

the  northerly  setting  sun,  and  the  white  snow  was 
tinged  lightly  with  rose  where  the  little  drifts 
stood  up  behind  their  lengthening  shadows  of 
bine. 

Suddenly  Harkwell  stepped  out  and  stood  be- 
fore the  line  of  racers.  He  called  on  them  to  voice 
their  protests  if  they  had  any  and  for  a  moment 
all  waited  in  silence.  No  one  spoke  a  word  of  pro- 
test and  the  chairman  moved  to  one  side  and  drew 
ont  his  watch.  The  dogs,  many  of  whom  had  been 
lying  quietly  in  the  snow,  leaped  up  at  the  com- 
mands of  their  drivers  and  began  tugging  at  their 
traces  and  yelping.  Then  Harkwell  raised  his 
hand. 

"Are  you  ready ?" 

There  was  a  moment  more  of  waiting  and  hold- 
ing the  dogs  in  check. 

Then— 

"Mush!"  and  Harkwell 's  hand  dropped. 

The  dogs  sprang  forward  snarling  and  snapping 
and  the  men  ran  alongside  using  the  heavy  ends 
of  their  whips  to  keep  them  from  fighting  when 
they  came  too  closely  together,  while  the  crowd 
pressed  in  and  cheered  their  favorites. 

Hoping  to  avoid  a  mix-up  on  the  start,  Kirk 
held  his  team  back  until  the  way  was  clear  and 
then  gave  the  word  to  his  leader  and  was  off. 
Only  once  he  looked  back  as  he  heard  Ruth's  voice 
calling  to  him  and  then  he  caught  sight  of  Marion 
Curtis  standing  silent  and  unmoving,  her  eyes 
Straight  before  her  on  the  trail  that  he  was 


56  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

taking.  He  fell  in  at  the  end  of  the  long  line  of 
racers  now  following  each  other  in  a  single  file 
that  veered  and  turned  and  twisted  its  way  along 
the  river  trail. 

When  the  crowd  had  finally  dispersed  and  gone 
back  to  the  town,  Ruth  still  stood  on  the  high  bank 
above  the  river,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  vanishing 
line  of  racers,  now  like  a  thin  knotted  thread  of 
black  against  the  snow.  And  thus  she  stood  until 
Kirk  and  his  team,  the  last  in  the  long  line,  grew 
faintly  visible  and  vanished  finally  around  a  bend 
in  the  river, 


CHAPTER  VH. 

THE  sun  had  already  set  by  the  time  the 
team  leading  the  long  line  of  racers  left  the 
level  of  the  river  and  climbing  the  bank 
swung  off  in  a  northerly  direction  over  a  winter 
portage.  The  river  trail  had  taken  them  about 
fifteen  miles  from  the  starting  line  and  the  re- 
mainder of  the  outward  half  of  the  course,  being 
tween  forty  and  fifty  miles,  lay  along  a  winter 
trail  that  ran  across  country,  emerging  now  and 
then  for  a  few  miles  along  the  rivers  and  across 
the  lakes  that  abound  in  the  country  between  The 
Pas  and  Sturgeon  Landing. 

In  the  quickly  gathering  dusk  Kirk  Brander 
found  it  almost  impossible  to  keep  his  eye  on  the 
leading  team.  The  line  was  still  strung  out  at 
length,  each  team  following  closely  the  team  in 
front,  the  nose  of  the  lead-dog  almost  brushing 
the  legs  of  the  runner  ahead.  Occasionally  a  team 
that  had  led  for  a  few  miles  would  draw  aside 
and  allow  the  team  behind  it  to  move  into  first 
place  and  break  the  trail  which  was  now  becominjf 
very  heavy  in  spots  where  the  snow  had  drifted 
in  and  banked  up  in  the  open  space  between  the 
trees.  There  was  no  conversation  among  the  men 
except  now  and  then  when  a  change  in  order  made 

57 


58  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

it  necessary  for  one  team  to  swing  out  of  the  trail 
to  allow  another  to  move  up  into  its  place.  Even 
then  the  dogs  required  so  much  attention  that 
little  opportunity  was  given  to  talk.  Only  the 
gruff  commands  of  the  drivers  and  the  occasional 
cracking  of  whips  broke  the  silent  monotony  of 
the  performance  and  even  these  sounds  became 
less  frequent  as  the  night  settled  down  with  the 
cold  snap  of  frost  in  the  air.  Little  could  be  heard 
save  the  light  tinkle  of  the  bells,  the  rhythmic  pad 
of  moccassined  feet  in  the  snow  and  the  soft  brush- 
ing of  the  toboggans  in  the  trail. 

For  at  least  twenty-five  miles  there  was  little 
change  in  the  relative  positions  of  the  racers. 
Breaking  trail  through  snow-drifts  that  have  been 
left  by  a  three  days'  blizzard  is  slow  and  arduous 
work  and  the  men  showed  little  desire  to  compete 
for  the  honor  of  leading  the  others  at  this  stage 
of  the  race.  Gradually,  however,  Kirk  found  him- 
self approaching  the  front  of  the  line  as  team  after 
team  dropped  out  of  the  leading  position  and  took 
its  place  at  the  end  of  the  string,  where  it  had  no 
difficulty  in  keeping  up  with  the  others.  Of  the 
twenty  or  more  teams  that  had  left  the  starting 
line  together  all  were  still  running  consistently 
and  it  was  apparent  that  there  would  be  no  real 
-<trial  either  of  endurance  or  of  speed  until  the 
course  had  been  broken  on  the  outward  half  and  a 
hard  keen  trail  provided  for  the  return. 

Within  ten  miles  of  Sturgeon  Landing,  however, 
Kirk  became  gradually  conscious  of  a  new  element 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  59 

entering  the  contest.  At  first  lie  could  not  tell 
what  prompted  the  feeling,  but  some  instinct  with- 
in him  announced  that  the  mere  routine  of  measur- 
ing mile  after  mile  was  suddenly  at  an  end  and 
that  before  long  he  would  be  in  a  struggle  in  which 
mere  mileage  would  be  of  small  importance.  It 
was  apparent,  too,  that  others  in  the  line  felt  as 
he  did,  for  the  cracking  of  whips  became  more  fre- 
quent, the  drivers'  voices  spoke  with  more  urge, 
and  even  the  dogs  seemed  to  have  awakened  to 
the  fact  that  they  were  running  a  race.  They 
barked  and  snapped  ill-naturedly  as  they  trotted 
along  in  their  harness. 

As  they  broke  from  the  cover  of  the  woods  and 
came  out  upon  the  wind-beaten  level  of  Sturgeon 
Lake  for  the  last  few  miles  of  the  outward  course 
to  the  Landing,  only  three  teams  were  ahead  of 
Kirk  in  the  line.  The  fact  that  two  of  these  teams 
were  driven  by  Joe  Bedard  and  Phil  Roche  gave 
him  some  food  for  thought.  He  was  not  afraid  of 
anything  either  of  them  might  do  individually, 
though  he  did  not  underestimate  Roche's  ability 
nor  his  gameness.  But  he  knew  Bedard  was  sim- 
ply a  tool  in  Roche 's  hands  and  he  was  just  a  little 
anxious  to  know  how  the  two  would  work  together. 
That  they  would  work  together  he  had  not  the 
slightest  doubt.  He  had  brought  upon  himself  the 
enmity  of  both  of  them  and  the  two  had  been 
friends  for  a  long  time. 

'Suddenly  the  team  in  the  lead  dropped  back  and 
Eoche  urged  his  dogs  forward  as  he  took  the  first 

(5) 


60 

position.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  going  to  take 
advantage  of  the  new  conditions  afforded  by  the 
lake  to  test  out  the  spirit  of  his  dogs.  The  gap 
between  Koche  and  Bedard  widened.  With  an  oc- 
casional flourish  of  the  whip,  Eoche  was  urging 
his  team  forward  in  a  sprint  that  showed  clearly 
that  from  this  point  on,  speed  as  well  as  endurance 
would  be  a  factor  in  the  struggle  for  mastery. 

Before  them  lay  the  blue-white  expanse  of  the 
lake,  unbroken  save  where  an  island  with  its  bur- 
den of  spruce  trees  shouldered  up  dimly  under  the 
cold  light  of  the  stars.  Beyond,  less  than  ten 
miles  away,  was  Sturgeon  Landing,  the  trading 
post  that  would  mark  the  end  of  trail-breaking 
and  the  beginning  of  the  real  race  homeward. 

Kirk  looked  back.  Immediately  behind  him 
lay  a  stretch  of  two  hundred  yards  or  more  to 
the  next  team  following.  He  dropped  back  a 
little  from  the  end  of  his  cariole  and  pressed  his 
toe  into  the  snow  in  three  or  four  spots  beside 
the  trail  over  which  his  dogs  had  run.  Under  his 
soft  moccassin  the  surface  of  the  snow  was  crisp. 
The  warm  sun  had  melted  it  during  the  day  and 
the  night  frost  had  encrusted  the  snow  with  a  thin 
film  of  ice.  He  straightened  himself  and  length- 
ened his  stride  till  he  came  up  with  his  dogs  again. 
The  change  of  gait  made  him  conscious  of  his  own 
reserve.  He  delighted  in  the  easy  response  of  his 
muscles  and  felt  doubly  alive.  He  was  never  so 
fit  in  his  life. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  61 

"If  you  get  away  from  me  to-night,  Phil,'*  he 
said  to  himself,  "you'll  have  to  travel." 

Kirk's  only  fear  was  for  his  dogs.  That  they 
were  in  perfect  condition  for  the  test  that  he 
would  have  to  put  them  to  he  had  no  doubt — pro- 
vided the  crusted  snow  did  not  cut  their  feet.  He 
went  alongside  and  examined  them  each  in  turn, 
watching  their  movements  carefully  for  the  first 
indication  of  sore  feet.  When  he  had  satisfied 
himself  that  they  were  still  running  strong  he 
dropped  back  again  behind  the  cariole  and  fell 
into  his  usual  stride. 

Ahead  of  him,  separating  him  from  Joe  Bedard, 
ran  a  young  stranger  who  had  come  in  from  the 
outside  to  run  his  dogs  in  the  race. 

"For  a  man  who  doesn't  like  this  kind  of  race," 
he  thought  to  himself,  as  he  recalled  something 
he  had  heard  the  young  outsider  say,  "the  stran- 
ger is  making  a  fairly  good  showing." 

But  Phil  Roche  was  steadily  and  persistently 
increasing  his  lead  and  Joe  Bedard  seemed  in  no 
way  excited  about  it  or  anxious  to  keep  the  gap 
from  lengthening.  Then  Kirk  began  to  notice  the 
pace  falling  off.  The  difference  was  scarcely  per- 
ceptible at  first  and  had  he  not  been  so  keenly 
alert  to  his  own  exceptional  fitness  he  might  easily 
have  been  tempted  to  think  that  he  was  growing 
tired.  But  he  knew  he  had  a  safe  reserve  of  energy 
that  had  not  been  drawn  upon  as  yet  and  he  knew, 
too,  that  if  Roche  and  Bedard  had  a  game  of  their 


64  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

quickly  into  the  tumbling  mass  he  kicked  and 
ehoved  his  way  towards  the  centre  where  he  found 
Bingo  and  stooping,  he  lifted  the  dog  bodily  from 
the  ground  and  carried  him  towards  the  outside. 
Regardless  of  the  snapping  jaws  and  tearing  feet 
and  rolling  bodies  about  him  he  succeeded  in  ex- 
tricating his  leader  whose  teeth  were  set  in  the 
shaggy  throat  of  a  dog  belonging  to  the  team  that 
had  tried  to  pass  Bedard.  The  young  driver  step- 
ped in  at  once  and  when  they  had  separated  the 
two  dogs  they  started  off  in  opposite  directions, 
gradually  working  their  teams  out  of  the  tangle 
by  pulling  on  the  traces  in  which  the  dogs  were 
still  secure. 

When  at  last  the  dogs  were  separated  and  each 
team  was  ready  again  for  the  trail,  the  majority 
of  the  other  racers  with  their  teams  going  strong 
had  passed  them,  giving  the  scene  of  the  fight  a 
wide  berth  as  they  did  so.  Kirk's  mind  was  made 
up  in  an  instant.  This  time  at  least  he  would  be 
guilty  of  no  error  in  judgment.  He  quickly  ex- 
amined the  harness  of  his  team  and  ran  his  hands 
hurriedly  over  their  coats.  They  had  apparently 
come  off  without  any  serious  mishap. 

"Ready,  pardner?"  came  the  voice  of  the  young 
fellow  who  was  waiting  a  few  yards  away. 

' '  Right, ' '  Kirk  called  back  in  reply.  * '  How  are 
you  fixed?" 

"Reckon  I'm  out  of  the  runnin',"  he  replied. 
"My  dogs  ain't  used  to  stagin'  a  hundred  mile 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  65 

race  and  a  dog  fight  all  in  one  night.  Leader 's  laid 
out  and  another's  bleedin'  bad." 

"Are  you  good  for  the  Landing!" 

' '  Sure — I  'm  good  for  the  distance.  I  can  run  it 
with  four  dogs  if  my  leader  can't  work — but  I 
can't  make  speed." 

Kirk  came  forward  quickly. 

"All  right,  stranger,"  he  said,  "we've  got  to 
make  the  rest  of  the  way  to  the  Landing  to- 
gether." 

He  turned  to  Bedard  who  was  by  this  time  giv- 
ing his  leader  the  trail  and  throwing  his  dogs  back 
into  their  harness.  As  Kirk  stepped  towards  him 
he  lifted  his  whip  and  was  on  the  point  of  hurrying 
off  again  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  happened. 

"Joe!"  Kirk  called. 

For  a  moment  the  half-breed  looked  as  if  he  was 
not  going  to  pay  the  slightest  attention  to  Kirk's 
challenge. 

"Now — look  out!"  Kirk  warned  and  drew  his 
whip  into  position. 

Bedard  understood  the  movement  and  brought 
his  team  to  a  standstill  immediately.  Kirk  went 
up  to  him  and  putting  his  hand  heavily  on  his 
shoulder  quite  close  to  his  neck  gripped  him  so 
that  he  winced  and  made  to  move  away  as  if  he 
feared  Kirk  was  going  to  kill  him. 

"Stand  still,  Joe!"  Kirk  commanded.  "If  yon 
were  a  dog,  I'd  kill  you.  Killing's  too  good  for 
you.  From  here  to  the  Landing  you're  going  to 
run  third.  I'm  coming  along  right  behind  you 


64  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

quickly  into  the  tumbling  mass  he  kicked  and 
shoved  his  way  towards  the  centre  where  he  found 
Bingo  and  stooping,  he  lifted  the  dog  bodily  from 
the  ground  and  carried  him  towards  the  outside. 
Regardless  of  the  snapping  jaws  and  tearing  feet 
and  rolling  bodies  about  him  he  succeeded  in  ex- 
tricating his  leader  whose  teeth  were  set  in  the 
shaggy  throat  of  a  dog  belonging  to  the  team  that 
had  tried  to  pass  Bedard.  The  young  driver  step- 
ped in  at  once  and  when  they  had  separated  the 
two  dogs  they  started  off  in  opposite  directions, 
gradually  working  their  teams  out  of  the  tangle 
by  pulling  on  the  traces  in  which  the  dogs  were 
still  secure. 

When  at  last  the  dogs  were  separated  and  each 
team  was  ready  again  for  the  trail,  the  majority 
of  the  other  racers  with  their  teams  going  strong 
had  passed  them,  giving  the  scene  of  the  fight  a 
wide  berth  as  they  did  so.  Kirk's  mind  was  made 
up  in  an  instant.  This  time  at  least  he  would  be 
guilty  of  no  error  in  judgment.  He  quickly  ex- 
amined the  harness  of  his  team  and  ran  his  hands 
hurriedly  over  their  coats.  They  had  apparently 
come  off  without  any  serious  mishap. 

"Ready,  pardner  ? "  came  the  voice  of  the  young 
fellow  who  was  waiting  a  few  yards  away. 

* '  Right, ' '  Kirk  called  back  in  reply.  * '  How  are 
you  fixed?" 

"Reckon  I'm  out  of  the  runnin',"  he  replied. 
"My  dogs  ain't  used  to  stagin'  a  hundred  mile 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  65 

race  and  a  dog  fight  all  in  one  night.  Leader 's  laid 
out  and  another's  bleedin'  bad.'* 

"Are  you  good  for  the  Landing!" 

' '  Sure — I  'm  good  for  the  distance.  I  can  run  it 
with  four  dogs  if  my  leader  can't  work — but  I 
can't  make  speed." 

Kirk  came  forward  quickly. 

"All  right,  stranger,"  he  said,  "we've  got  to 
make  the  rest  of  the  way  to  the  Landing  to- 
gether." 

He  turned  to  Bedard  who  was  by  this  time  giv- 
ing his  leader  the  trail  and  throwing  his  dogs  back 
into  their  harness.  As  Kirk  stepped  towards  him 
he  lifted  his  whip  and  was  on  the  point  of  hurrying 
off  again  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  happened. 

"Joe!"  Kirk  called. 

For  a  moment  the  half-breed  looked  as  if  he  was 
not  going  to  pay  the  slightest  attention  to  Kirk's 
challenge. 

"Now — look  out!"  Kirk  warned  and  drew  his 
whip  into  position. 

Bedard  understood  the  movement  and  brought 
his  team  to  a  standstill  immediately.  Kirk  went 
up  to  him  and  putting  his  hand  heavily  on  his 
shoulder  quite  close  to  his  neck  gripped  him  so 
that  he  winced  and  made  to  move  away  as  if  he 
feared  Kirk  was  going  to  kill  him. 

" Stand  still,  Joe!"  Kirk  commanded.  "If  yon 
were  a  dog,  I'd  kill  you.  Killing's  too  good  for 
you.  From  here  to  the  Landing  you're  going  to 
run  third.  I'm  coming  along  right  behind  you 


66  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

and  you're  going  to  make  time — do  you  get  that?" 

Thoroughly  cowed,  Bedard  gave  silent  assent 
by  the  look  in  his  eyes. 

"Lead  away  there,  stranger!"  Kirk  called. 
"I'm  going  to  bring  this  along.  I  don't  want  him 
in  the  way  when  I  come  back." 

The  dogs  were  in  the  trail  again  in  an  instant 
and  the  distance  to  the  Landing  was  covered  at  a 
run  that  never  slackened  a  moment  until  they  ar- 
rived' before  the  door  of  the  trader 's  cabin.  While 
they  were  still  about  two  miles  out  Phil  Eoche 
met  them  and  passed  by  at  a  safe  distance.  At 
the  first  sight  of  Eoche  Kirk  spoke  a  few  words  to 
Bedard  and  brought  the  end  of  his  whip  so  close  to 
Bedard 's  ear  that  the  half-breed  made  no  attempt 
at  so  much  as  a  signal  to  the  man  with  whom  he 
was  in  collusion. 

They  found  the  other  teams  already  leaving  one 
by  one  as  they  climbed  the  shore  of  the  lake  and 
drew  up  to  the  cabin.  It  was  a  matter  only  of 
minutes  before  Kirk  was  ready  for  the  return 
trip. 

Fortunately  he  was  well  away  before  Bedard 
left  the  trader's.  How  far  Eoche  was  in  the  lead 
he  had  only  a  vague  idea.  It  was  probably  not 
less  than  two  miles — possibly  even  more.  With- 
out urging  his  dogs  unnecessarily  Kirk  kept  them 
swinging  along  at  an  even  pace  that  was  calcul- 
ated not  only  to  eliminate  the  slower  competitors 
but  also  to  reduce  the  distance  that  Eoche  had 
succeeded  in  putting  between  them.  If  he  could 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  67 

only  catch  Boche  within  the  next  three  hours  he 
would  be  content  to  let  the  teams  fight  it  out  for 
the  remainder  of  the  distance.  Daylight  would 
begin  to  break  in  less  than  that  time,  and,  for  rea- 
sons of  his  own,  he  preferred  not  to  force  a  deci- 
gion  until  there  was  a  little  more  light. 

He  crept  up  gradually  upon  one  after  another 
of  the  teams  that  were  ahead  of  him.  Carefully 
he  marked  them  as  he  passed,  keeping  account  of 
who  they  were  and  turning  over  in  his  mind  as  he 
hurried  along  the  names  of  those  who  were  still 
between  him  and  Koche.  The  line  of  racers  was 
badly  broken  now,  the  teams  being  separated  by  as 
much  as  a  mile  in  some  instances.  The  trail  was 
keen  and  the  faster  teams  had  little  difficulty  in 
leaving  their  heavier  and  slower  rivals  behind. 

The  eastern  sky  was  already  brightening  when 
Kirk  finally  swung  to  one  side  from  the  trail  and 
passed  a  team  that  he  had  been  following  closely 
for  more  than  half  an  hour.  It  had  been  a  half 
hour  of  determined  effort  on  the  part  of  both  men 
and  Kirk's  rival  had  fought  grimly  to  hold  the 
lead  until  his  dogs  could  do  no  more.  He  veered 
a  little  from  the  trail  as  Kirk  went  by  and  waved 
his  hand  and  shouted. 

1 1  Go  it,  you  bounder ! '  * 

Kirk  waved  his  hand  in  reply,  shouted  and 
cracked  his  whip.  The  excitement  of  the  race  was 
beginning  to  get  into  his  blood  now  that  speed  had 
become  the  really  important  factor  in  the  contest. 

So  far  as  Kirk  recalled  he  had  passed  everyone 


68  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

but  Roche  now.  Looking  back  in  the  slowly  faint 
gray  of  very  early  morning  he  could  see  that  no 
one  was  following  closely  enough  to  cause  him  any 
anxiety.  The  race  now  hung  upon  his  ability  to 
overhaul  and  pass  Phil  Roche. 

For  almost  an  hour  he  jogged  along  behind  his 
dogs,  his  eyes  blurred  by  the  biting  cold  of  the 
early  dawn  as  he  kept  them  consistently  in  the 
direction  of  the  trail  before  him  in  the  hope  of 
catching  a  glimpse  of  his  rival. 

Suddenly  as  he  emerged  from  the  cover  of  the 
wood  and  came  out  upon  a  small  lake  he  saw  a 
moving  shadow  just  leaving  the  lake  level  less 
than  half  a  mile  away.  Kirk  gained  the  smooth, 
even  surface  of  the  lake  just  as  the  shadow  dis- 
appeared among  the  trees  on  the  other  side. 

For  the  first  time  during  the  race  he  sent  his 
whip  alongside  his  team  and  Bingo  left  the  trail 
at  a  bound  as  the  report  broke  within  a  foot  of  his 
head.  The  distance  across  the  lake  was  covered 
at  a  speed  that  was  faster  than  anything  they  had 
done  that  night.  Up  the  bank  they  leaped  and 
took  the  trail  through  the  thick  growth  of  willows 
that  covered  a  mile  or  so  of  low  flat  ground.  They 
broke  suddenly  round  a  quick  bend  in  the  trail 
and  came  upon  a  team  of  dogs  and  a  driver  who 
at  the  sight  of  Kirk  began  to  shout  excitedly  and 
nse  his  whip.  But  it  was  not  Roche. 

In  a  few  minutes,  in  spite  of  shouting  and  whip- 
ping, the  racer  gave  way  to  Kirk  and  the  trail 
was  once  more  clear  before  him.  The  fact  that 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  69 

he  had  failed  in  his  accounting  for  all  the  teams 
as  he  passed  them  gave  Kirk  a  feeling  of  uneasi- 
ness that  grew  as  he  went  along.  He  had  thought 
that  Eoche  alone  was  ahead  of  him.  He  had  some- 
how or  other  overlooked  this  man.  Would  it  be 
possible  that  he  had  forgotten  others  as  well.  He 
went  over  the  list  and  tried  to  recall  them  and  to 
clear  his  own  mind  as  to  whether  he  had  passed 
them  or  not.  He  thought  so  but — 

In  the  half-light  of  breaking  day  he  saw  sha- 
dowy forms  in  the  trail  before  him.  Sometimes 
they  were  clear  and  again  they  bounded  out  of 
eight  round  a  turn  or  vanished  strangely  where 
there  was  nothing  but  a  straight  and  open  trail 
among  the  trees.  Was  it  possible  that  the  shifting 
lights  and  shadows  of  day-break  were  playing 
tricks  with  his  vision!  He  blinked  his  eyes  and 
smiled. 

"Kirk  Brander,  you're  going  loco,"  he  said  to 
himself. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  Roche's  voice  came  to 
him.  Less  than  a  mile  off  lay  the  Saskatchewan 
and  Koche  was  somewhere  within  that  mile.  He 
urged  his  dogs  forward  and  at  the  sound  of  bark- 
ing that  came  from  the  trail  ahead  Bingo's  ears 
pointed  up  for  a  moment  and  with  an  answering 
yelp  he  was  off  at  a  pace  that  made  the  other  dogs 
extend  themselves  to  keep  up  without  being  actu- 
ally dragged  along  by  their  leader. 

Kirk  was  delighted  with  their  unbroken  spirit 


70  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

for  the  race  had  not  been  an  easy  one  and  there 
remained  nearly  twenty  miles  yet  to  go. 

When  they  broke  suddenly  from-  the  fringe  of 
willows  above  the  river  and  swung  down  the  bank, 
Boche  was  only  a  few  hundred  yards  away.  The 
river  with  its  covering  of  ice  and  snow  shone  white 
in  the  new  day.  On  the  eastern  horizon,  as  if  to 
mark  the  goal  towards  which  they  were  striving, 
stood  the  sun,  its  red  disk  half  showing  above  the 
black-pointed  spruce.  In  the  town,  thought  Kirk 
to  himself,  the  people  would  be  rolling  sleepily 
from  their  warm  beds  to  be  on  hand  for  the  finish. 
And  before  him,  his  huge  form  plunging  along  in 
the  trail,  his  broad  shoulders  hunched  forward 
and  his  head  low,  was  Phil  Eoche,  urging  his  team 
forward  with  renewed  vigor  now  that  he  realized 
that  Kirk  was  on  his  heels. 

Something  of  the  wild  spirit  of  the  moment  fired 
Kirk's  blood  as  he  reached  the  river  level  and 
started  in  to  overtake  Boche.  Here  at  any  rate 
was  no  phantom  racer,  no  trick  of  light  and  sha- 
dow, but  the  flesh  and  blood  form  of  the  man  he 
had  to  outrun  and  perhaps — he  did  not  know  what 
he  might  have  to  do  before  he  was  safely  across 
the  finishing  line. 

But  that  first  wild  moment  passed  quickly  and 
Kirk  settled  down  grimly  to  fight  it  out.  He  re^ 
membered  that  in  the  crowd  waiting  on  the  river 
there  would  be  the  patient  form  of  Buth  Mackay 
eager  for  the  first  sight  of  the  teams  coming  round 
the  bend  in  the  river.  He  knew  that  even  now, 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  71 

sitting  alone,  or  more  probably  pacing  the  floor  of 
his  cell,  Tuck  Roberts  was  all  but  breaking  under 
the  load  of  suspense  and  disappointment  that 
could  be  relieved  only  by  the  announcement  of 
victory.  He  would  have  given  the  best  blood  of  his 
heart  to  make  these  two  happy. 

Suddenly  there  flashed  bef ore'his  eyes  the  tight 
mouth  and  set  face  of  Marion  Curtis  when  she  had 
last  looked  at  him.  Unconsciously  his  own  mouth 
tightened  and  his  teeth  set  as  he  measured  the  dis- 
tance that  still  separated  him  from  Roche.  The 
blood  of  his  heart  was  not  for  Marion  Curtis — he 
knew  that — but  the  strength  of  his  limbs,  the  iron 
of  his  sinews,  a  kind  of  animal  pride  in  the  clean 
blood  of  his  veins,  these  were  for  her,  and  the 
fight  itself,  whether  it  issued  in  victory  or  defeat. 

Already  he  was  close  behind  Roche.  He  had 
made  his  dogs  extend  themselves  and  even  Bingo 
was  beginning  to  show  signs  of  strain.  Roche, 
wisely  enough,  was  saving  his  team  for  the  last 
couple  of  miles  and  refused  to  be  hurried  unneces- 
sarily by  Kirk's  approach.  Kirk  was  not  ungrate- 
ful for  a  return  to  a  somewhat  slower  pace.  He 
realized  that  a  mile  or  so  at  an  even  gait  would 
give  his  dogs  time  to  recover  a  little  and  prepare 
for  the  final  spurt. 

At  last,  within  five  miles  of  the  finishing  line, 
Kirk  felt  that  the  contest  must  be  pushed  to  a  deci- 
sion. He  let  go  the  long  lash  of  his  whip  and  his 
dogs  responded  at  once  as  if  they  had  been  awak- 
ened out  of  a  half  sleep.  At  the  same  time  Roche 


72  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

renewed  his  efforts  and  the  final  struggle  was  be- 
gun. Ahead,  against  the  clear  light  of  the  morn- 
ing sky,  the  little  white  church,  high  upon  the 
river  bank,  marked  the  spot  below  which  stretched 
the  finishing  line.  About  half  way  along  the 
course  Kirk  thought  he  saw  something  that  looked 
like  another  team  in  the  trail.  A  fear  leaped  in 
his  heart  and  he  strained  his  eyes  to  make  sure 
that  he  was  not  being  tricked  again.  But  the 
bright  sun  gleaming  on  the  white  snow  was  daz- 
zling to  his  eyes.  Everywhere  black  spots  danced 
crazily  before  him  and  he  gave  up  looking. 

"Wh-s-s-st bing!"  He  whistled  sharply  and 

shouted  as  he  flourished  his  whip.  "Bingo!  Hy- 
yip!" 

His  leader  leaped  forward  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice  and  turned  aside  from  the  trail  as  he  came 
close  upon  Roche's  flying  heels.  It  was  rather 
early  yet  to  force  the  pace  to  the  limit  but  Bingo 
seemed  eager  to  get  past  and  Kirk  felt  like  letting 
him  have  his  way.  A  sharp  curve  in  the  trail  that 
Roche  was  following  made  it  a  good  spot  to  pass 
and  gain  the  position  ahead  with  the  covering  of 
little  additional  ground.  Before  Bingo  had  reach- 
ed the  point  where  the  trail  angled  across  in  front 
of  him,  however,  Roche  had  sent  his  leader  for- 
ward at  a  pace  that  clearly  showed  how  deter- 
mined he  was  to  hold  the  lead.  But  Bingo  was  not 
to  be  denied.  He  seemed  to  have  made  the  race 
his  own  particular  concern  and  to  have  forgotten 
that  he  was  under  directions  from  a  driver.  His 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  73 

body  was  low,  almost  brushing  the  hard  snow  sur- 
face over  which  he  was  running  and  his  feet  flew 
under  him  as  if  they  had  been  driven  mechanically 
by  some  engine  that  knew  no  fatigue.  Steadily  he 
reduced  the  advantage  that  Roche's  leader  held 
with  'all  the  tenacity  that  a  huskie  can  show  when 
he  is  urged  by  the  whip-lash  and  the  lurid  pro- 
fanity of  a  driver. 

It  was  clear  to  Kirk  and  Roche  alike  that  Bingo 
would  not  be  cheated  out  of  what  he  was  striving 
for.  Suddenly  the  expression  of  Roche's  face 
changed.  He  raised  his  whip  hand  and  before 
Kirk  could  interfere,  Bingo  received  a  sharp  cut 
of  the  lash  across  the  face.  No  dog  could  be  ex- 
pected to  continue  his  speed  unbroken  in  the  face 
of  such  interference.  Bingo  leaped  to  one  side, 
yelping  from  the  smart  and  buried  his  snout  in 
the  snow  between  his  feet. 

At  that  moment  Kirk's  heart  held  murder.  He 
had  been  running  within  six  feet  of  Roche  when 
the  latter  had  drawn  his  whip  across  Bingo's  face. 
At  the  sound  of  the  dog's  yelp  of  pain,  he  leaped 
across  the  intervening  space  and  landed  directly 
in  front  of  Roche  who,  unable  to  prepare  himself 
in  time  for  the  impact,  floundered  awkwardly  in 
an  effort  to  defend  himself.  Before  he  could  raise 
a  hand,  however,  Kirk's  fist  shot  forward  and  met 
him.  The  result  was  due  as  much  to  Roche's  own 
awkwardness  as  to  the  force  of  Kirk's  blow.  The 
big  fellow  dropped  to  the  trail  where  he  scrambled 
a  moment  in  an  effort  to  get  to  his  feet. 


74  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

As  he  stood  above  him,  Kirk  was  tempted  at 
first  to  let  him  up  and  fight  it  out.  But  he  re- 
membered Ruth  Mackay's  words.  He  was  run- 
ning a  race  and  much  hung  upon  the  result.  He 
slipped  off  the  thong  that  bound  his  whip  to  his 
wrist  and  seizing  the  whip  about  three  feet  from 
the  heavy  knotted  handle,  raised  it  abo-Te  Roche's 
head. 

' '  Don 't  move ! "  he  commanded.  *  *  Lie  there  or — 
by  God,  I'll  brain  you!" 

Roche  moved  defiantly  but  Kirk's  hand  rose 
just  a  trifle  and  the  look  in  his  face  was  savage. 

"Don't,  I  tell  you!" 

Roche  settled  back  on  the  snow  breathing  heav- 
ily and  muttering  curses.  Kirk  turned  his  head 
slightly  and  called  to  his  dogs.  Bingo,  whimper- 
ing and  shaking  his  head  with  the  blood  dripping 
from  his  jaws,  came  slowly  towards  him,  his  tail 
low  between  his  legs. 

For  a  moment  as  he  looked  at  the  dog's  bleeding 
mouth,  Kirk  had  all  he  could  do  to  control  himself. 
With  his  eyes  upon  Roche  where  he  lay  on  the 
ground  he  ran  his  hands  over  the  dog's  head  and 
neck  and  pressed  his  face  close  down  to  his  ears. 

"Bingo,  Bingo,"  he  said  soothingly. 

The  dog  seemed  to  understand  at  once  that  his 
driver  had  not  held  the  whip  that  had  cut  him  so 
cruelly. 

"Bingo!" 

Kirk's  voice  changed  suddenly  and  the  dog's 
tail  came  up  in  an  arch  above  his  back. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  75 

i  "Go  after  them,  Bingo  I"  Kirk  cried  and  turned 
the  dog's  head  down  the  trail  to  where  Eoche's 
team  was  trotting  along  lazily  now  that  their 
driver 's  whip  had  been  silenced. 
i  Bingo 's  face  expressed  understanding  that  was 
something  more  than  merely  animal.  He  gave 
forth  a  sharp  yelp  and  tore  himself  out  of  Kirk's 
arms  as  he  started  down  the  trail  in  hot  pursuit. 
Kirk  waited  with  an  eye  upon  Eoche  until  his  team 
was  well  away  and  not  until  they  had  come  up 
with  Eoche's  team  did  he  move. 

"See  you  later,  Phil,"  he  said  and  his  sense  of 
humor  had  returned. 

He  was  off  at  full  speed  before  Eoche  could  get 
up.  Five  minutes  later  the  two  teams,  with  their 
drivers  following,  were  racing  madly  with  only  a 
couple  of  hundred  yards  between  them  and  about 
three  miles  yet  to  go  before  they  should  cross  the 
line. 

j  And  then  it  came  again  to  Kirk's  mind  that  an- 
other team  was  even  then  finishing  the  race  down 
there  where  he  could  see  the  black  line  of  the 
crowd  that  was  waiting.  No  matter — he  would 
run  to  beat  Eoche.  If  another  arrived  before  him 
he  had  done  as  much  as  his  dogs  could  do  and  no 
one  could  do  more. 

•  The  last  quarter  of  a  mile  was  a  contest  to 
break  the  stoutest  heart.  Eoche's  dogs  had  spent 
less  of  their  energy,  they  had  had  nothing  besides 
the  race  itself  upon  which  to  lay  it  out.  Two  of 
Kirk's  dogs  were  plainly  tiring  and  nothing  but 


76  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

the  fierce  spirit  of  the  fighter  was  keeping  Bingo 
on  his  feet.  As  he  led  the  way  towards  the  finish 
his  jaws  were  angry  and  red  with  Mood  and  a  con- 
stant savage  growling  came  from  his  deep  throat. 
Had  Roche's  leader  or  any  other  dog,  for  that 
matter,  appeared  within  reach  of  those  jaws  no 
human  power  could  have  controlled  Bingo's  mad 
instinct  to  kill. 

Gradually  Roche's  team  crept  closer  until  with 
only  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  go  his  leader  was  at 
Kirk's  heels.  The  crowd  that  had  come  down  to 
be  on  hand  at  the  finish  had  run  up  the  course  to 
meet  the  rivals  and  their  constant  cheering  was 
disconcerting  to  the  dogs.  But  Bingo,  his  head 
low  and  his  fierce  eyes  shifting  only  a  little  from 
side  to  side,  growled  and  snarled  at  the  first  ap- 
proach of  anyone  who  ventured  near  enough  to 
cause  interference. 

Within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  finish  only  a  few 
feet  separated  the  leaders  of  the  two  teams. 
Roche 's  whip  had  been  flying  constantly — nothing 
else  could  have  got  his  dogs  to  do  what  they  were 
doing.  Now,  for  the  first  time  in  the  race,  Kirk 
drew  his  whip  back  and  sent  the  tip  of  the  lash 
stinging  against  Bingo's  flank.  The  growling 
ceased  only  for  a  moment  as  the  dog's  voice  issued 
in  a  savage  bark  and  with  a  forward  bound  that 
almost  dragged  the  team  from  their  feet  he  left 
Roche's  leader  and  sprang  over  the  line  fully  ten 
feet  ahead  of  his  rival. 

Kirk  paid  no  heed  to  the  madly  cheering  crowd 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  77 

that  surged  about  him  and  pushed  their  way  in  to 
get  a  look  at  the  dogs.  His  mind  just  then  was 
busy  with  other  things.  He  went  forward  to 
where  Bingo  stood  snarling  and  snapping  in  a 
wide  circle  of  admiring  men  and  women  who  were 
wise  enough  to  keep  at  a  safe  distance.  He  was 
about  to  put  his  hand  on  the  dog's  head  when 
Bingo  turned  and  bared  his  white  fangs  angrily. 
Kirk  drew  back  quickly.  For  a  moment  he  looked 
at  the  dog  and  spoke  once  sharply.  When  Bingo 
turned  his  head  towards  him  Kirk  continued  look- 
ing at  him  and  his  hand  tightened  about  his  whip. 
In  Kirk's  face  and  the  slight  movement  of  his 
hand,  the  dog  read  the  mind  of  his  master.  Only 
a  moment  did  he  hesitate  while  Kirk's  hand  moved 
menacingly,  then  dropping  his  ears  and  lowering 
his  head  he  crept  towards  Kirk,  whimpering  a 
little  as  he  came  close  and  waited.  Suddenly  Kirk 
dropped  to  one  knee  in  the  snow  and  drew  the  dog 
close.  His  arms  encircled  his  leader's  body  and 
while  he  spoke  with  his  mouth  close  to  Bingo's 
ears  the  dog  whined  a  little  and  leaned  heavily  to- 
wards him. 

Kirk  looked  up  quickly  at  the  sound  of  a  fami- 
liar voice  and  got  to  his  feet  just  as  Euth  Mackay 
broke  through  the  crowd. 

"Kirk,  Kirk!"  she  cried  as  she  ran  to  him  and 
flung  her  arms  about  him. 

Then,  seeing  Bingo,  she  dropped  on  her  knees 
beside  the  dog  unmindful  alike  of  the  warnings 


78  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

from  the  crowd  and  of  Kirk's  futile  efforts  to  hold 
her  back. 

"Look  ont — the  dog's  mad!"  someone  cried 
from  ont  of  the  crowd. 

But  Kuth  was  already  on  the  ground,  her  arms 
about  the  dog's  neck,  her  face  buried  in  his  warm 
and  shaggy  neck. 

"Bingo,  Bingo,"  she  said  softly  and  the  dog, 
his  sides  panting  and  his  whole  body  trembling, 
snuggled  closer  to  her  as  she  spoke  his  name. 

And  as  he  looked  at  the  two  of  them,  Kirk  was 
aware  of  Marion  Curtis  standing  behind  him.  He 
turned  and  faced  her  where  she  stood  smiling  and 
silent  on  the  edge  of  the  crowd  near  him.  She  did 
not  move  nor  did  the  expression  on  her  face 
change  as  he  smiled  in  reply  and  raised  his  hand 
slightly  by  way  of  greeting. 

Later  when  he  drove  his  team  up  from  the  river 
and  walked  down  the  street  with  Ruth  beside 
him  on  the  way  to  see  Tuck,  he  ventured  to  ask  a 
question  which  had  been  on  his  mind  ever  since  he 
had  crossed  the  line  ahead  of  Roche. 

"There  was  nobody  ahead  of  us,  was  there, 
Ruth?" 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"In  the  race?" 

Kirk  nodded. 

"Why,  no,  yon  foolish!   We  won  it!" 

And  Kirk  could  not  help  wondering  just  who, 
after  all,  had  won  it  and  who  had  helped  to  bring 
victory  out  of  defeat. 


CHAPTER  VHX. 

HALF  an  hour  later  Kirk  and  Bnth  Mackay 
left  Tuck  Eoberts  and  went  out  into  the 
street.  Kirk  had  his  dogs  to  attend  to  and 
felt  the  need  of  a  few  hours'  rest  himself.  He 
paused  a  moment  before  leaving  Euth  and  took 
her  hand. 

"You  mustn't  allow  this  affair  to  get  you, 
Euth,"  he  warned  and  he  smiled  at  her.  "You've 
got  a  red  nose  now  and  your  eyes  look  as  if  yon 
hadn't  had  any  sleep  for  a  week.  Perk  up,  Euth, 
girl — perk  up !  It'll  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  so." 

"I'm  not  really  worrying  over  it,  at  all,"  she 
replied.  "Tuck  has  told  me  all  about  it  and — he 
says  he  didn't  do  it." 

"And  you  believe  him?" 

Euth  looked  at  him  quickly.  "Tuck  has  never 
told  me  what  wasn't  true,"  she  replied  with  some 
emphasis.  * '  He  didn  't  have  a  thing  to  do  with  this 
fur  stealing.  If  he  had — he'd  have  told  me." 

"That's  the  stuff,  Euth,"  Kirk  replied.  "For- 
get it!" 

"It's  a  bad  thing  for  Tuck  just  the  same,"  she 
said  slowly  as  if  thinking  aloud.  "It  should  never 
have  happened. ' ' 

Kirk  looked  at  her  with  questioning  eyes.   She 

79 


80  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

turned  her  face  to  him  and  moving  closer  put  her 
hand  on  his  arm. 

"We  can't  always  say  what  we're  thinking 
about,"  she  said  and  drew  away  in  silence. 

Though  Kirk  Brander  had  known  Tuck  Koberts 
for  years,  during  which  they  had  shared  their 
trials  and  split  their  gains,  it  was  evident  that 
Birth  Mackay's  heart  held  something  that  was 
closed  to  the  outer  world.  And  although  he  could 
not  escape  the  chill  which  came  to  him  with  the 
conviction  that  he  wras  of  the  outer  world  where 
Ruth  and  Tuck  were  concerned,  he  could  not  but 
think  the  better  of  both  of  them  for  the  confidence 
they  imposed  in  each  other. 

On  his  way  back  he  called  for  a  moment  to  have 
a  word  alone  with  Jim  Cavanagh.  He  found  the 
constable  in  his  office  and  when  he  had  closed  the 
door  behind  him  he  went  directly  to  the  subject. 

"Tom,"  he  said,  "what  evidence  have  they  on 
Tuck?" 

Cavanagh  did  not  smile  nor  did  he  attempt  to 
evade  the  question. 

"Brander,"  he  replied,  looking  Kirk  in  the  eye, 
"you  make  it  damned  hard  for  a  man  to  follow  the 
regulations." 

"I  know  it's  against  the  rules — it's  against 
common  sense,"  replied  Kirk,  "but  I  want  to 
know  how  serious  the  case  is.  I  have  my  own  rea- 
sons for  wanting  to  know  —  and  I  give  you  my 
word  of  honor  that  no  use  will  be  made  of  any- 
thing you  tell  me." 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  81 

'Cavanagh  thought  quietly  for  a  long  time  look- 
ing out  of  the  window.  When  he  turned  again  and 
looked  at  Kirk  his  voice  was  very  deliberate. 

"The  evidence  is  pretty  circumstantial,"  he 
said.  "The  furs  were  missed  from  the  warehouse 
early  yesterday  morning  and  we  found  them 
cached  in  the  woods  the  other  side  of  the  railway 
track." 

"But  Tuck " 

"Well — there  were  marks  in  the  snow — it  does- 
n^t  matter  just  what — and  we  were  forced  to  go 
and  take  a  look  at  two  or  three  kennels.  Yester- 
day afternoon  we  went  to  look  at  Tuck's  dogs  and 
outfit.  We  found  the  bells  had  been  taken  off  and 
we  got  a  little  information  to  the  effect  that  the 
dogs  had  been  away  nearly  all  night.  That's 
about  all  there  is  that  I  can  give  you,  Brander. 
There's  a  little  more  but  it  wouldn't  do  you  any 
good  to  know  it  and  it  wouldn't  help  us  any. 
But  I'll  tell  you  this — and  I  don't  like  to  have  to 
say  it  either  for  I  've  always  liked  Tuck — we  have 
it  on  him  if  we  ever  had  it  on  anyone  and  it  would- 
n't  do  any  good  taking  chances." 

Kirk  stood  for  some  time  perplexed. 

"The  evidence  may  be  bad,"  Kirk  remarked  at 
last,  "but  if  Tuck  Eoberts  is  that  kind  of  a  man 
I  think  I'd  have  found  it  out  long  ago." 

"We'll  not  lose  any  time  in  finding  out  all  there 
is  to  know  about  it,"  Tom  Cavanagh  observed. 

That  Tuck  would  come  clean  out  of  the  affair, 
Kirk  could  not  doubt.  And  yet,  with  all  the  con- 


82  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

fidence  he  had  in  the  man  whom  he  had  loved  as 
his  best  friend,  a  sense  of  uneasiness  grew  within 
him  as  he  recalled  Ruth's  words.  It  was  this  that 
kept  him  awake  long  after  he  had  gone  to  bed 
weary  from  his  night's  exertions. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  presence  of  Marion  Curtis  in  The 
Pas  had  'been  very  trying  to  Warren  K. 
Paxton.  In  fact  her  arrival  had  come  as  a 
climax  to  a  number  of  trying  experiences  during 
the  past  few  months.  The  world  outside  had  be- 
gun to  talk  quite  freely  about  the  future  of  the 
mining  industry  in  the  north.  The  Lucky  Strike, 
a  small  body  of  very  high  grade  copper,  had  been 
worked  under  the  most  difficult  conditions  and  yet 
had  paid  a  handsome  profit  to  its  owners.  From 
this  single  enterprise  alone,  there  had  come  re- 
turns that  inspired  confidence.  The  wealth  was 
undoubtedly  there  if  it  could  be  reached.  But  the 
Lucky  Strike  had  been  worked  down  to  the  lower 
grades,  its  further  development  had  been  stopped, 
and  the  eyes  of  mining  men  were  turned  to  a  large 
property,  the  Micmac,  which  was  still  in  the  hands 
of  its  original  locator,  old  John  Mackay.  Two 
companies  had  taken  options  on  the  property  at 
different  times  and  had  gone  over  the  most  of  it 
with  the  diamond  drill.  Both  companies  had  been 
forced  out  for  the  want  of  capital  at  a  time  when 
the  property  was  beginning  to  show  up  well  in  the 
drilling. 
"Warren  Paxton  was  a  patient  and  tireless  work- 

83 


84  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

er.  For  nearly  a  year  he  had  been  doing  every- 
thing in  his  power  to  come  to  terms  with  John 
Mackay.  But  John  Mackay  knew  more  now  about 
the  value  of  his  holdings  than  he  had  known  before 
the  diamond  drill  had  gone  over  the  property.  He 
knew,  too,  that  Paxton  and  the  men  he  represented 
could  meet  his  terms  if  they  wished  to  and  he  was 
prepared  to  wait  just  as  long  as  they.  And  Paxton 
had  waited.  But  while  he  waited  he  had  bought  up 
every  prospect  of  any  promise  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  Micmac — every  prospect  but  one. 

That  one  was  a  comparatively  small  property 
which  had  been  located  and  was  still  owned  by 
John  Allen.  John  Allen  had  called  his  property 
the  "White  Squaw,  and  Paxton  had  used  every 
means,  fair  and  foul,  to  force  the  old  prospector 
to  loosen  his  hold  upon  his  claim.  But  John  Allen 
was  no  more  approachable  than  John  Mackay,  and 
Paxton  had  long  since  reached  the  limit  of  his 
patience  with  the  old  fellows.  For  months,  then, 
he  had  contented  himself  with  keeping  others  out 
of  the  field.  He  had  suspected  Henry  Tyne  but 
had  feared  him  very  little.  Henry  Tyne's  best 
days  in  the  world  of  affairs  were  over.  But  the 
unexpected  coming  of  Marion  Curtis  had  set  him 
to  thinking  again.  In  fact  he  had  thought  so  hard 
most  of  the  night  that  he  had  overslept  himself 
and  had  missed  seeing  the  finish  of  the  race.  But 
he  had  af  least  made  up  his  mind.  He  was  going 
to  act. 

About  ten  o'clock  Paxton  stood  in  the  hall  b'e- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  85 

fore  the  door  of  Marion  Curtis '  room.  Only  a  few 
minutes  before  from  where  he  had  been  sitting  in 
the  large  waiting-room  downstairs,  he  had  seen 
her  enter  the  hotel  with  her  maid  and  from  the 
corner  of  his  eye  he  had  watched  her  ascend  the 
stairway.  When  he  had  given  her  sufficient  time 
to  remove  her  wraps  he  left  his  chair  resolutely 
and  mounted  the  stairs  with  a  precision  that  was 
even  more  pronounced  than  usual. 

But  in  spite  of  his  customary  resoluteness  and 
in  spite  of  his  wonted  self-complacency,  there  was 
something  in  his  face  that  betrayed  a  ruffled  spirit. 

The  door  opened  in  response  to  his  knock  and 
Marion  Curtis  stood  silhouetted  against  the  bright 
sunlight  that  poured  through  the  window  behind 
her.  Here  was  additional  cause  for  Paxton's  dis- 
comfiture. He  rather  guessed  that  she  wore  an 
amused  expression  on  her  face,  but  it  angered  him 
that  the  light  prevented  his  seeing  her  easily. 

"I  hope  you  will  not  object  to "  he  began. 

Marion  Curtis  chuckled  a  little. 

"Why,  Mr.  Paxton,"  she  exclaimed  and  held 
out  her  hand.  "I  really  didn't  expect  to  see  you 
around  so  early.  You  must  have  been  up  with  the 
rest  of  us  to  see  the  finish  of  the  race.  Won't  you 
come  in?" 

She  talked  rapidly  and  Paxton  found  no  oppor- 
tunity to  explain  his  early  call  and  so  put  himself 
at  ease. 

"No,  I  didn't  get  np  in  time  to  see  the  finish," 
he  replied.  "They  tell  me  it  was  quite  exciting." 


86  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

She  stepped  back  into  the  room  and  motioned 
to  him  to  follow. 

"No,  thank  you,"  he  protested,  "I  just  came 
to  pay  my  wager — wanted  to  prove  that  I  was  a 
good  loser  by  taking  the  first  opportunity  of  pay- 
ing my  debts." 

"I  hope  you'll  always  be  in  a  hurry  to  admit 
you've  placed  your  money  on  the  wrong  dog,  Mr. 
Paxton, ' '  she  said  quietly. 

The  remark  found  Paxton  unprepared.  Ap- 
parently there  was  nothing  to  be  gained  in  ex- 
changing pleasantries  with  Marion  Curtis.  She 
was  a  woman,  yes,  and  a  deucedly  attractive  wo- 
man, too,  but  when  she  threw  down  a  thinly  veiled 
challenge  of  that  kind,  'by  Jove,  he  would  take  it 
up. 

"Don't  you  think  we  could  have  a  few  minutes' 
talk  in  confidence  f "  he  asked. 

Again  she  motioned  to  a  vacant  chair. 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Paxton,"  she  replied  in  her 
most  charming  manner.  *  'I  suppose  we  are  bound 
to  come  to  it  sooner  or  later  anyhow." 

Paxton  hesitated  in  the  doorway.  "Don't  you 
think  it  would  be  better  if  we  should  go  to  the 
little  sitting-room  at  the  end  of  the  hall?"  he  sug- 
gested. Her  laugh  made  all  protest  futile. 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Mr.  Paxton,"  she  replied. 
"What  we  have  to  say  should  be  said  privately,  I 
think.  We  might  be  disturbed  there.  And  be- 
sides, I've  been  my  own  boss  for  a  long  time.  Come 
in  and  sit  down." 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  87 

When  Paxton  had  taken  the  chair  which  she 
offered  him,  Marion  Curtis  closed  the  door  and 
seated  herself  near  the  window  where  she  could 
get  a  clear  view  of  his  face. 

* '  Now,  then, ' '  she  said. 

Paxton  drew  a  bill-fold  from  his  pocket. 

" First  let  me  square  accounts,"  he  said. 

She  did  not  reply  and  he  proceeded  leisurely  to 
count  out  the  bills.  When  he  had  finished  he  hand- 
ed her  the  money. 

"I  think  I  warned  you  against  this,"  she  said 
as  she  received  the  money,  and  her  eyes  twinkled 
as  she  looked  at  him. 

Paxton  did  not  reply.  He  was  not  in  a  banter- 
ing mood.  When  he  had  replaced  his  bill-fold  he 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  regarded  her  for  a 
moment  in  silence. 

"There's  no  sense  in  our  beating  about  the  bush 
any  longer,  Marion  Curtis,"  he  began  abruptly. 
"You  are  not  in  The  Pas  to  see  a  dog-race  any 
more  than  I  am.  Let 's  talk  business.  Henry  Tyne 
has  been  trying  for  six  months  to  get  his  hands  on 
that  Micmac  property.  If  he  had  had  the  money 
to  secure  an  option  on  the  property  he  would  have 
done  it  long  ago.  Besides,  old  John  Mackay  is  a 
stickler  on  terms.  I  know  Henry  pretty  well  and 
I  really  never  suspected  him.  Now  I'm  going  to 
tell  you  something.  We  have  the  money,  we  have 
had  it  any  time  in  the  last  year  if  we  had  wanted 
an  option  on  the  Micmac.  We  were  watching  the 
development  of  the  Lucky  Strike  before  we  made  a 


88  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

move.  When  you  and  Henry  Tyne  come  to  terms 
with  John  Mackay  you'll  find  yourselves  saddled 
with  a  white  elephant  that  will  cost  you  a  good 
half  million  before  you  can  get  out  from  under  it. 
I  know  the  terms,  and  I  know  something  about 
what  it  costs  these  days  to  develop  a  mine.  With 
the  cost  of  copper  on  the  down  grade  as  it  has 
been  for  a  year  or  more,  Henry  Tyne  will  wish 
with  all  his  heart  and  soul  that  he  had  left  this 
business  for  someone  with  more  experience  in  it." 

Paxton  drew  himself  up  in  his  chair  and  took  a 
long  breath  as  he  regarded  Marion  Curtis.  She 
did  not  reply  at  once  and  appeared  to  be  waiting 
for  him  to  continue.  It  was  her  silence  that 
prompted  Paxton  to  proceed. 

"Now,  I'm  going  to  tell  you  just  why  I'm  here. 
When  I  have  made  my  position  clear  you  will  at 
least  have  something  worth  thinking  over.  The 
Lucky  Strike  has  been  working  for  a  year  or  more. 
But  they're  at  the  end  of  their  job.  All  the  high 
grade  ore  has  been  taken  out  and  they  can't  afford 
to  ship  out  the  second  grade  stuff  for  treatment 
outside.  Their  work  is  done  there.  Their  plant 
is  going  to  be  idle  until  something  else  happens. 
What  that  something  else  is  you  know  as  well  as 
I  do.  We  '11  have  to  have  a  railroad  and  a  smelter 
and  no  end  of  capital." 

Marion  Curtis  made  a  motion  of  impatience. 

"Don't  you  think  we'd  better  come  to  the  point 
at  once,  Mr.  Paxton?  I've  looked  into  the  propo- 
sition from  the  outside  as  well  as  I  could  and  I 


THE  LOBSTICK  TEAIL  89 

know  pretty  well  already  everything  you  have 
been  telling  me. ' ' 

Paxton  got  up  from  his  chair  and  walked  to- 
wards the  window. 

"The  Micmac  property  will  not  be  worth  a 
tinker's  flip  to  Henry  Tyne  or  anyone  else  unless 
he  can  get  control  of  old  man  Allen's  holdings  in 
the  White  Squaw  as  well. ' ' 

"That's  precisely  the  point,  Mr.  Paxton,"  she 
replied.  "At  least  that's  the  point  we  ought  to 
discuss  if  we're  going  to  discuss  anything  at  all. 
Of  course,  we  might  disagree  on  whether  the 
Micmac  can  be  made  to  pay  without  the  White 
Squaw." 

Paxton  had  walked  back  to  the  other  end  of  the 
room.  He  turned  quickly  and  faced  her. 

"We  cannot  disagree  on  that,"  he  said. 

"We  might,"  she  replied,  "but  we  are  not  going 
to.  We  can  afford  to  let  the  point  stand  over  until 
the  experiment  is  tried.  You  can't  tell  anything 
about  a  mine  from  walking  over  the  surface.  My 
own  opinion  is  that  the  Micmac  may  surprise 
you." 

Paxton  shook  his  head  without  speaking. 

'  *  I  know  what  you  think, ' '  she  continued.  ' '  The 
diamond  drill  has  revealed  no  large  body  of  high 
grade  ore.  But  the  property  has  been  only  about 
half  drilled.  The  best  half,  I  am  forced  to  be- 
lieve, is  the  part  near  the  lake  into  which  the  dril- 
lers have  never  gone.  We  may  even  have  to  go 
under  the  lake  to  get  at  it." 


90  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Paxton  still  shook  his  head.  It  was  the  only 
thing  to  do.  Here  was  a  woman  that  talked  about 
mining  as  if  she  had  been  in  the  business  of  de- 
veloping mining  properties  for  years.  She  had 
as  good  command  of  the  facts  as  Paxton  himself 
had — he  feared  even  better.  Her  convictions,  he 
knew,  were  mere  guesses.  But  he  knew  that  all 
convictions  touching  an  undeveloped  mine  are 
mere  guesses,  let  them  be  held  by  man  or  woman. 

"In  short,  Mr.  Paxton,"  she  was  saying  in  spite 
of  his  persistent  head-shaking,  "  there  is  a 
romantic  side  to  the  mining  game  and  that  is  one 
of  the  best  reasons  in  the  world  why  a  woman  has 
as  good  a  chance  as  a  man — or  even  better/' 

"Then  you  are  not  in  the  field  for  old  man 
Allen's  stuff?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

Marion  Curtis  looked  out  of  the  window  a  few 
moments  before  she  replied. 

"I  didn't  say  that,  did  It"  she  replied. 

"Then  let's  get  down  to  brass  tacks,"  Paxton 
said  a  little  brusquely.  "You  haven't  a  chance  in 
the  world  with  old  John  Allen." 

"Not" 

"No.  You'll  never  own  a  ton  of  ore  in  the 
White  Squaw." 

"You  might  at  least  tell  me  why,  Mr.  Paxton." 

"There  are  two  reasons.  One  is  old  John  Allen 
himself." 

"And  the  othert" 

He  placed  an  index  finger  on  his  chest.  "I  am 
the  other — I  and  the  interests  behind  me." 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  91 

"You  could  make  yourself  a  little  clearer," 
Marion  Curtis  suggested. 

"I  mean  simply  this,"  Paxton  said,  coming 
quite  close  to  her.  "We  hav^  done  everything  in 
God's  world  to  get  John  Allen  to  talk  business 
with  us  but  he 's  as  deaf  as  a  barber 's  pole.  Ask 
him  about  his  mine  and  he'll  talk  about  cabbages. 
If  you  want  to  know  what  he 's  going  to  do  about 
developing  the  property  he  '11  tell  you  about  a  new 
brand  of  potatoes  he's  trying  to  grow  on  the  bare 
rock.  Ask  him  about  the  water  power  on  the  pro- 
perty and  he'll  tell  you  you  never  drank  water  like 
his  in  all  the  world.  We've  tried  it  for  a  year  and 
we  know." 

Marion  Curtis  laughed  more  at  Paxton 's  deep 
seriousness  than  at  what  he  was  telling  her. 

"You  ought  to  try  shooting  him,"  she  sug- 
gested, but  Paxton  allowed  her  remark  to  pass 
unnoticed. 

"He  won't  talk  business — one  of  these  eccentric 
old  Englishmen " 

"But  he  might  change — some  day,"  she  vent- 
ured, "and  when  he  does " 

"When  he  does,"  Paxton  hurried  to  remind  her, 
"well  be  there  to  do  the  talking." 

Marion  Curtis  smiled  to  herself.  "We'll  have 
an  equal  chance,  at  any  rate,  Mr.  Paxton,  if  we  put 
in  our  stakes  in  the  Micmac.  It's  just  across  one 
end  of  the  lake,  isn't  it?" 

"You  would  save  yourself  a  lot  of  time  and 
trouble,"  he  replied,  "if  you  would  remember  that 


92  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

location  isn't  the  only  thing  in  the  mining  busi- 


ness. " 


Paxton  drew  his  coat  together,  preparing  to 
leave,  and  Marion  Curtis  got  to  her  feet. 

"It  might  save  you  some  time  and  trouble,  too/' 
she  said,  "if  you  could  get  it  clear  in  your  mind 
that  we  are  not  depending  entirely  upon  locations, 
either,  Mr.  Paxton. " 

Paxton  went  to  the  door  and  paused  a  moment 
with  his  hand  on  the  knob. 

"Naturally  you'll  drag  young  Brander  into  this 
thing,"  he  said,  looking  directly  at  her.  She  re- 
turned his  gaze  without  flinching. 

"He  thinks  a  great  deal  of  his  uncle  Henry," 
ehe  replied. 

"Well — don't  do  it.  It  will  do  you  no  good — 
and  it  might  possibly  do  him  a  lot  of  harm." 

"I  shall  tell  him  what  you  say — he  will  be  fore- 
warned at  any  rate." 

Paxtor  smiled  thinly  and  went  out. 

When  Paxton  had  gone  Marion  Curtis  got  into 
her  furs  hurriedly  and  called  her  maid. 

"I'm  going  to  be  quite  busy  until  about  one 
o'clock,  Kathleen,"  she  said.  "And  don't  forget 
— Miss  Allen  is  to  be  here  for  luncheon.  If  she 
comes  before  I  get  back,  just  ask  her  to  sit  down 
and  wait  for  me. ' ' 

She  permitted  Kathleen  to  arrange  the  fur 
snugly  about  her  neck  and  then,  smiling  on  her 
maid  with  genuine  affection,  she  hurried  away 
and  a  moment  later  was  in  the  street. 


CHAPTER    X. 


L'ATE  that  afternoon  Kirk  Brander  got  from 
Ms  bed  where  he  had  'been  trying  to  make 
up  the  sleep  he  had  lost  the  night  before. 
The  race  won,  he  was  prepared  now  to  put  himself 
at  the  disposal  of  Marion  Curtis  and  to  give  his 
time  to  the  carrying  out  of  her  orders. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  expectancy,  therefore, 
that  he  stepped  into  the  street  and  hurried  off  to 
visit  Wu  Lung  before  reporting  for  duty. 

Before  the  door  of  the  restaurant  Kirk  noticed 
a  team  of  dogs  and  cariole  which  he  recognized  at 
once  as  belonging  to  Dags.  The  outfit  was  ready 
for  the  trail  and  Kirk  surmised  that  Dags  had 
already  had  enough  of  civilization  as  it  was  dis- 
pensed in  The  Pas  and  was  about  to  make  a  hur- 
ried escape. 

He  found  the  old  fellow  paying  for  his  supper 
as  he  entered. 

"What's  the  hurry,  Dags,  old  boy?"  he  said  as 
he  closed  the  door  and  stepped  towards  him. 

Dags  turned  and  with  an  air  of  patronage  look- 
ed Kirk  over  from  heels  to  head.  To  Bark's  sur- 
prise the  old  fellow  was  steady  on  his  feet  and  his 

93 


94  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

eye  was  as  clear  as  if  he  had  never  taken  a  drink 
in  his  life. 

"Kirk,  my  boy,"  he  said  at  last,  "I'm  leavin' 
town  cold  sober — now  what  d'ye  think  o'  that? 
An'  while  I'm  sober  I'm  go  in'  to  say  what  I'd 
say  if  I  wasn't.  There's  some  that  can  live  in 
towns  an'  like  it.  They  can  have  it  an'  be  damned. 
They  tell  me  you're  goin'  out  to  stay — somewhere 
south  in  the  big  cities.  You  can  have  it,  too,  but 
I'm  here  to  tell  you  one  thing.  This  country  is  bad 
enough,  God  knows.  I'm  livin'  here  but  I'm  only 
about  half  conscious  most  of  the  time  or  I'd  get 
out.  But  I  wouldn't  go  with  you  if  there  was  free 
gold  to  dig  in  the  middle  of  every  street — no,  not 
if  it  was  the  heavenly  city  itself  with  the  streets 
paved  with  it.  People  that  live  in  cities  are  a 
damn',  Godless,  cutthroat  gang  o'  night  wolves, 
breedin'  dope  systems  an'  yellow  livers  an'  givin* 
twenty-four  hours  a  day  devisin'  schemes  whereby 
the  human  race  can  lengthen  its  rations  and  short- 
en its  wind.  If  you  're  goin ' — all  right,  go !  Here 's 
my  hand,  Kirk,  an*  God  Almighty  save  you  until 
you  discover  it's  time  to  get  back.  An'  when  you 
do — get  back  before  they  get  you  so  you  can't 
leave.  You  understand  me  ? ' ' 

He  shook  Kirk's  hand  as  he  spoke  and  looked 
him  in  the  eye  with  an  expression  of  real  regret. 
Kirk  realized  that  Dags  was  finding  it  hard  to  say 
good-bye. 

4 'I  understand,  Dagsie,"  he  said. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  95 

"Eight!"  replied  Dags.  "You'll  be  gone  be- 
fore I  come  back  again — good-bye." 

f<  Good-bye,  Dagsie." 

They  shook  hands  warmly  and  Kirk  stood  and 
watched  him  until  the  old  man  had  gone  out  and 
closed  the  door  behind  him. 

Less  than  an  hour  later  Kirk  lighted  himself  a 
fresh  cigarette,  took  leave  of  the  half  dozen  or  so 
of  his  friends  with  whom  he  had  been  discussing 
the  details  of  the  race,  and  went  out  into  the  street. 
He  was  feeling  unusually  pleased  with  the  world 
in  general.  The  winnings  he  had  taken  on  the  race 
in  addition  to  the  prize  money  which  he  was  yet  to 
receive  would  make  a  respectable  showing  along- 
side the  credit  he  had  already  established  with 
the  bank.  Altogether,  he  thought  to  himself,  he 
was  going  back  to  civilization  with  enough  hard 
cash  to  put  him  on  self-respecting  terms  with  his 
new  life. 

As  he  walked  leisurely  down  the  street,  his  mind 
bent  upon  seeing  Tuck  Koberts,  he  became  aware 
of  someone  overtaking  him.  Turning  he  saw  the 
bulky  figure  of  Warren  K.  Paxton  and  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  thin  smile  that  covered  his 
countenance. 

"Congratulations  on  the  good  race  yon  ran, 
Brander,"  he  said  as  he  offered  to  shake  hands. 

"Thanks,  very  much,"  Kirk  replied,  shaking 
hands. 


96  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"I  lost  some  of  my  very  good  money  on  that 
race,  Brander,  but  I  have  no  regrets." 

Kirk  smiled.  "You  can  hardly  blame  me  for 
that,"  he  replied. 

"You're  responsible,  at  any  rate,"  Paxton 
laughed  and  the  two  continued  down  the  street. 

A  few  minutes  later  Paxton  stopped  suddenly 
before  the  door  of  his  office. 

"Are  you  in  a  hurry,  Brander?"  he  asked. 
When  Kirk  showed  no  particular  signs  of  haste, 
Paxton  opened  the  door.  *  *  Come  in  for  a  minute 
or  two  and  sample  my  cigars." 

Kirk  tossed  away  what  was  left  of  his  cigarette 
and  followed  Paxton  into  the  office.  They  entered 
an  inner  compartment  which  was  separated  from 
the  outer  office  by  a  partition  that  did  not  quite 
reach  to  the  ceiling.  The  place  was  warm  and  as 
Paxton  took  a  box  of  cigars  from  an  upper  drawer 
in  the  desk  Kirk  submitted  to  the  feeling  of  com- 
fort that  came  over  him  and  sat  down  readily 
enough  after  he  had  lighted  his  cigar  from  the 
match  which  Paxton  held  for  him. 

''There's  a  little  matter  of  business  I  want  to 
speak  to  you  about,"  Paxton  began  abruptly  when 
he  had  seated  himself  and  had  taken  a  few  satis- 
fying puffs  from  his  cigar. 

Kirk  waited  without  speaking. 
'You  no  doubt  know  there  has  been  a  consider- 
able amount  of  mining  activity  in  the  country 
lately,"  he  continued.    "I  mean,  of  course,  there 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  97 

has  been  some  business  activity,  some  little  in- 
terest from  the  outside  world." 

"I  have  heard  a  little  about  it,"  Kirk  admitted, 
"though  I  haven't  spent  much  time  in  town  during 
the  past  year." 

Paxton  nodded  his  head.  "That  interest  will 
probably  grow,"  he  went  on.  "Soon  there  will 
be  men  in  here  with  a  little  money  ready  to  buy  up 
everything  that  looks  like  a  prospect.  The  mining 
game  is  the  same  old  story  the  world  over.  One 
or  two  men  will  strike  it  rich — the  great  majority 
will  lose  all  they  put  into  it.  It's  a  game  that 
should  not  be  played  except  by  men  who  have  un- 
limited capital,  Brander,  men  who  can  afford  to 
lose  a  million — five  million — and  carry  on  just  the 
same." 

As  Kirk  looked  at  Paxton  closely  for  the  first 
time  he  felt  an  instinct  rise  within  him  that 
cautioned  him  against  speaking.  For  months  he 
had  wanted  to  go  out  where  he  would  have  to  deal 
with  men  of  affairs  whose  concern  was  only  with 
big  schemes  of  development  and  enterprise.  Here, 
in  this  man  who  was  talking  to  him,  the  big  world 
he  had  dreamed  of  was,  as  it  were,  reaching  in  and 
touching  him  with  its  finger.  He  listened  with 
eager  interest. 

"I  have  just  heard  definitely  to-day  for  the  first 
time  that  your  good  old  uncle,  Henry  Tyne,  is 
about  to  plunge  in." 

Paxton  paused. 

"I  don't  know  much  about  it,"  Kirk  declared. 


98  THE  LOBSTICK  TKAIL 

For  a  moment  Paxton  seemed  puzzled. 

"That  may  be  perfectly  true,"  he  replied,  at 
last.  "But  Mrs.  Curtis  will  probably  tell  you  all 
you  want  to  know.  Nothing  has  been  said  about 
it  publicly — your  uncle  has  seen  to  that. ' ' 

Kirk  smiled  in  response  to  the  little  jibe  at  his 
uncle  Hal. 

"Brander,  I  want  to  speak  frankly  to  you," 
Paxton  said  finally.  "You  have  been  away  from 
things  for  some  time — I  remember  when  you 
cleared  out  and  left  the  old  fellow  without  warn- 
ing. It  was  a  good  joke  on  Henry,  and  I  had  a 
good  laugh  at  him  until  he  began  to  take  it  seri- 
ously. Now,  listen.  Henry  Tyne  has  had  a  hard 
time  of  it  during  the  last  year  or  so.  He's  not  in 
the  position  he  was  when  you  knew  him — and  he 's 
not  the  man  he  was,  either. " 

Kirk  felt  the  strings  tighten  about  his  heart  as 
Paxton  spoke. 

"Now,"  continued  Paxton,  "he's  going  to  put 
everything  he  owns  into  a  deal  that's  too  big  for 
him.  He  hasn't  the  capital  and  he  hasn't  the 
strength  left  in  him  to  do  it." 

Paxton 's  words  had  not,  perhaps,  the  effect 
upon  Kirk  that  he  had  hoped.  Quietly  Kirk  was 
beginning  to  see  in  a  new  light  the  part  he  was  yet 
to  play  alongside  his  old  uncle.  He  did  not  know 
in  what  position  his  uncle  was  financially.  He 
would  learn  all  that  from  Marion  Curtis.  But  he 
certainly  would  not  stand  aside  and  see  his  old 
guardian  beaten  in  his  last  days. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  99 

"It  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Paxton,"  he  said  quietly, 
"that  Unk  needs  some  new  blood  to  help  him 
out." 

Paxton 's  air  was  patronizing. 

"Brander,"  he  said  in  the  mellowest  voice  he 
could  command,  "it's  time  your  uncle  was 
quitting." 

Kirk  started  forward.  "Quitting?  Oh,  no,  Mr. 
Paxton.  You  don't  understand  Henry  Tyne.  He 
doesn't  quit." 

"But  he  can't  go  on — you'll  discover  that  when 
you  see  him." 

"He '11  go  on  until " 

"Now  let's  look  things  in  the  eye,  Brander," 
Paxton  interrupted.  "Henry  Tyne  is  through — 
he  knows  that  himself,  only  he's  too  proud  to  ad- 
mit it  to  the  rest  of  us.  Why,  man,  what  do  you 
think  of  his  sending  Marion  Curtis  in  here  on  such 
a  commission?" 

"Mrs.  Curtis  seems  like  a  very  clever  woman  to 
me,"  Kirk  admitted  in  defense. 

^*As  a  woman — yes — I  agree  with  you.  But 
why  send  a  woman?  Don't  you  see  the  poor  old 
fellow  is  simply  knuckling  under  to  the  fates." 

Kirk  got  up  from  his  comfortable  chair  and 
walked  about  for  a  moment  or  two  in  thought.  He 
had  not  been  prepared  for  any  such  sudden  intro- 
duction to  affairs  of  the  kind  that  Paxton  dis- 
cussed. There  was  so  much  that  he  did  not  know, 
could  not  even  guess  at,  that  he  hesitated  before 
it  all  even  as  he  felt  most,  eager  to  be  a  living  part 


100  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

of  it.  Through  all  the  maze  of  difficulty  that  faced 
him,  however,  he  saw  one  thing  clearly.  He  turn- 
ed quickly  upon  Paxton. 

"I  don't  know  yet  what  all  this  means, "  he  said, 
and  ne  spoke  very  simply  and  directly,  "but  on 
one  thing  I  am  clear,  Mr.  Paxton.  If  Henry  Tyne 
wants  anything  in  this  country  and  has  the  money 
to  buy  it,  I'm  going  to  stand  by  him  until  he  gets 

it"  ' 

Paxton  had  risen  from  his  chair  as  Kirk  spoke 
and  coming  forward  now,  laid  his  hand  paternally 
on  Kirk's  shoulder. 

"Brander,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "you're  young — " 

"I  may " 

"Just  a  minute.  You're  young  and  you  have  a 
career  to  think  of.  A  little  guidance  from  a  man 
of  practical  business  judgment  will  save  you  a  lot 
of  time  and  a  lot  of  needless  worry." 

"I  think  I  can  profit  from  the  business  ex- 
perience of  my  uncle,"  Kirk  replied.  "In  fact,  I 
am  already  employed  by  him  and  have  reported 
for  duty." 

Paxton  saw  that  he  was  only  making  the  situ- 
ation more  difficult  by  carrying  on  the  discussion 
in  such  a  vein.  He  turned  suddenly  upon  Kirk. 
His  thin  smile  had  vanished  and  in  his  face  there 
blazed  the  spirit  of  the  real  Paxton. 

"Then,  listen  to  me,  young  man,"  he  snapped. 
"You're  going  to  run  up  against  the  toughest 
proposition  you  ever  faced  in  your  young  life.  You 
think  you're  going  to  get  in  here  with  the  little 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  101 

capital  you  have  and  spoil  the  chances  of  men  who 
could  make  something  out  of  it.  All  right — go  to 
it.  See  how  far  you  can  go  before  you  cry  for 
help." 

"You  may  make  us  quit  the  game,  Mr.  Paxton, 
but  we'll  never  cry  for  help,"  Kirk  replied. 

Paxton  seemed  not  even  to  have  heard  the 
words.  "You  will  find  out  for  yourself  what  it 
means  to  buck  men  with  money  and  influence  in 
the  country." 

*'I  have  bucked  blizzards  for  five  years,"  Kirk 
reminded  him,  his  sense  of  humor  coming  back  in 
spite  of  Paxton 's  angry  ravings. 

"I  had  no  feeling  over  this  affair  at  first,"  Pax- 
ton  went  on.  "none  whatever.  I  thought  we  could 
come  to  terms  that  would  be  satisfactory  to  every- 
body. We  have  some  small  holdings  in  there  and 
would  have  sold  them  at  a  reasonable  figure  to 
make  the  proposition  worth  while  for  you." 

"Maybe  you'll  sell  them  to  us  yet,"  Kirk  sug- 
gested. 

" Not  by  a  damn '  sight !" 

"  You  never  can  tell,"  Kirk  laughed. 

But  Paxton  refused  to  see  any  humor  in  the 
case.  He  objected,  moreover,  to  being  laughed  at. 
"Not  by  a  damn'  sight,  young  fellow,"  he  re- 
peated. '  *  And  we  '11  fight  with  every  dollar  we  can 
raise  and  every  bit  of  influence  we  can  exert. 
When  it's  over  you'll  know  you've  been  in  a  fight, 
at  any  rate. ' ' 

"I  think  I'll  like  that  "  Kirk  commented. 


102 

"You'll  be  welcome  to  it,"  Paxton  returned. 

"Only,"  Kirk  added,  "you'd  better  fight  clean, 
Mr.  Paxton,  or " 

He  paused. 

"Wen — or  what?"  Paxton  prompted. 

"Well,  there'll  be  bits  of  hide  to  clean  when 
it's  all  over — and  your  hide  is  going  to  be  in  it  if 
the  fight  isn't  on  the  level." 

Not  a  word  passed  between  the  men  as  Kirk 
pulled  his  cap  down,  buttoned  his  coat  snugly 
about  him  and  went  to  the  outer  door. 

"Good  night,  Mr.  Paxton,"  he  called  as  he 
paused  a  moment  with  his  hand  on  the  door  knob. 

A  nondescript  grunt  was  Paxton 's  only  re- 
sponse. And  Kirk  laughed  to  himself  as  he  went 
out  into  the  street.  He  would  tell  Tuck  about  it, 
he  said  to  himself,  and  Marion  Curtis,  too. 

When  Kirk  walked  into  the  crowded  hall  that 
night  and  looked  them  all  over  hurriedly  in  an 
effort  to  discover  Marion  Curtis,  his  blood  was 
quick  with  new  excitement.  His  talk  with  Paxton 
had  given  him  re-birth  into  a  world  that  he  had 
known  for  months  only  in  dreams.  There  was 
something  big,  something  compelling  in  the  feel- 
ing that  just  on  the  eve  of  his  going  out  to  find 
another  world  it  should  come  in  and  seek  him  out. 
And  that  world  had  come  to  him  not  only  in  Pax- 
ton;  its  dawn  had  broken  upon  him  in  Marion 
Curtis.  She  had  been  its  herald,  she  was  still  its 
radiant  symbol. 

The  dancers  were  already  on  the  floor,  the  ma- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  103 

jority  of  them  in  gay  northern  garb  of  every 
description,  their  moccassined  feet  brushing  the 
floor  in  soft  rhythm  to  the  music.  Everywhere  were 
bright  faces  that  radiated  health  and  happiness 
and  the  joy  of  clean  living,  and  Kirk  for  the 
moment  loved  these  people  of  the  north  country 
more  keenly  than  he  had  ever  done.  When  the 
dance  was  finished  he  walked  across  the  floor  to- 
ward Euth  Mackay,  who  seeing  him  approaching, 
left  her  partner  without  a  word  and  ran  out  to 
meet  him.  As  they  met  Kirk  caught  her  by  the 
arms,  lifted  her  from  the  floor  playfully  and  set 
her  down  again.  Suddenly  the  crowd  broke  into 
a  ringing  cheer  for  the  Derby  victor.  Kirk  re- 
ceived the  greeting  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  and  a 
smile  that  was  almost  boyishly  self-conscious. 
Catching  Euth's  hand  where  she  had  hooked  it 
round  his  elbow  he  hurried  to  the  side  of  the  room 
and  returning  her  to  her  partner  sat  down  beside 
them  smiling  still  as  the  crowd  continued  cheering. 
It  was  then  that  his  eyes  fell  upon  Marion 
Curtis  seated  across  the  room  from  him.  In  her 
curt  bow  of  recognition  and  her  faint  smile  there 
was  something  that  Kirk  had  never  seen  in  her  be- 
fore. Laying  his  hand  upon  Euth's  shoulder  he 
excused  himself  quietly  and  getting  up  walked 
over  to  her  and  held  out  his  hand.  She  received 
him  graciously  enough  and  accepted  his  invitation 
to  join  him  in  the  dance  which  was  just  beginning. 
Scarcely  a  word  passed  between  them  as  thej 
picked  their  way  carefully  among  the  dancers, 


104  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

But  in  Kirk's  veins  beat  the  joy  of  youth  and  good 
luck  and  pride  in  the  modest  intimacy  with  a  wo- 
man who  by  sheer  abundance  of  personal  power 
seemed  for  the  moment  to  dominate  everyone 
about  her. 

When  he  led  her  finally  to  a  corner  of  the  hall 
and  sat  down,  he  drew  his  chair  close  to  hers  and 
faced  her. 

"IVe  discovered  the  dark  secret  you've  been 
keeping  from  me, ' '  he  said. 

In  a  moment  her  air  of  detachment  vanished.  In 
its  place  was  a  look  of  eager  interest. 

' '  Tell  me, ' '  she  demanded. 

Then  Kirk  related  in  detail  all  that  had  passed 
between  him  and  Paxton.  When  he  had  finished 
he  was  surprised  that  she  was  quite  serious  in 
spite  of  his  laughing. 

"How  long  do  you  want  to  stay  here!"  she 
asked  suddenly. 

"At  the  dance?" 

"Yes.  Can  you  leave  at  once,  or  soon?  We  must 
talk  over  things  a  little  and  get  to  work. ' ' 

Kirk  thought  a  moment. 

"They  will  expect  me  to  be  here  when  the  prizes 
are  given  out, ' '  he  said.  *  *  That  should  come  soon 
and  after  that  I  can  go  any  time — though  I  must 
dance  once  with  Ruth." 

"Ruth?"  Marion  Curtis  enquired.  "Is  that  the 
name  oJ  the  girl  who  met  you  when  you  came  in?" 

"Yes.  You  saw  her!  Ruth's  a  good  pal  of 
mine." 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  105 

" She's  a  pretty  little  thing,"  she  commented, 
and  Kirk,  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  known 
Euth  Mackay,  gave  himself  time  to  pause  and  sub- 
mit her  to  a  hurried  analysis.  And  there  crept 
into  his  mind  a  word  that  he  had  not  had  occasion 
to  use  for  years.  Perhaps,  after  all,  Euth  was 
" inadequate".  The  next  moment  he  was  sorry 
for  the  thought.  He  loved  Euth  Mackay,  not  only 
because  of  her  love  for  Tuck  Eoberts,  but  also  be- 
cause of  a  certain  wholesome  girlishness  that  she 
embodied  in  herself.  And  as  he  looked  across  the 
hall  to  where  Euth  was  seated,  he  thought  of  the 
heart-ache  she  was  concealing  beneath  her  chatter 
and  her  smiles  and  he  could  not  help  feeling  re- 
sentful towards  Marion  Curtis. 

Late  that  night  Kirk  sat  in  Marion  Curtis '  room 
and  listened  to  her  own  account  of  what  she  had 
done  during  her  brief  two  days  in  town.  To  his 
astonishment  things  had  gone  much  farther  than 
he  could  even  have  guessed  from  what  Paxton  had 
told  him.  Paxton  had  come  back  from  Winnipeg 
prepared  to  secure  an  option  on  the  Micmac  pro- 
perty. But  he  had  not  come  prepared  to  bid 
against  Marion  Curtis.  Before  he  could  get  word 
to  his  men  and  obtain  their  permission  to  act  on 
his  own  judgment,  she  had  made  a  tentative  ar- 
rangement with  old  John  Mackay,  and  Paxton  was 
eliminated.  Anticipating  difficulty  in  another 
quarter,  she  had  closed  a  deal  with  the  owners  of 
the  Lucky  Strike  property  by  which  she  had  a 
week  in  which  to  decide  whether  or  not  she  would 


106  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

buy  the  equipment  which  was  now  lying  idle  in 
their  old  camp. 

"All  of  which  Warren  K.  Paxton  knows  by  this 
time,"  she  said  with  an  amused  expression  light- 
ing her  face.  "But  one  thing  he  does  not  know — 
not  yet.  He  does  not  know  that  old  John  Allen  of 
the  White  Squaw  may  be  brought  to  talk  business 
yet  if  he 's  handled  right. ' ' 

"You  have  seen  him,  then?" 

"No,  but  I'm  going  to  see  him  at  once  if  yon 
will  do  your  part." 

*  *  Count  on  me, ' '  Kirk  replied.  "  I  'm  in  now  and 
I'm  going  to  stay." 

"Of  course  you're  in,  but  you're  simply  pad- 
dling at  the  edge  yet.  I  think  I  can  see  a  day  when 
this  thing  will  be  big  enough  for  the  biggest  man 
in  the  country — and  I  want  you  to  be  prepared  for 
it  when  the  time  comes." 

"What's  the  next  move?"  Kirk  enquired 
eagerly. 

"We  must  go  at  once  and  find  out  what  must  be 
done  to  get  the  equipment  transferred  from  the 
Lucky  Strike.  And  we  must  see  John  Allen  now 
before  Paxton  has  an  opportunity.  Everybody 
just  now  is  waiting  for  the  'spring  break-up  before 
getting  to  work.  What  we  can  get  done  before  the 
snow  and  ice  go  will  all  be  to  the  good.  When  can 
we  go?" 

Kirk  hesitated. 

"Why,  to-morrow — anytime — but  it's-not  a  very 
pleasant  trip  for " 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  107 

"I  mnst  go,"  she  interrupted.  "I  must  see 
John  Allen." 

"But  how  do  you  know  you  can  see  him — he 
may  not " 

Again  she  hurried  to  set  his  mind  at  rest. 

"Must  I  tell  you  that  Jule  Allen  has  been  in  to 
see  me?" 

* i  Jule  Allen  ? ' '  Kirk  exclaimed.  * '  But  she  never 
comes  to  town — only  once  in  the  five  years  that  I 
have  been  here.  Then  she  was  with  her  father — 
just  a  bit  of  a  girl.  I  can't  think  of  her  coming  in 
now  after  that  blizzard — and  alone ! ' ' 

Marion  Curtis  smiled.  "Yes,  alone — and  driv- 
ing her  own  dogs.  I  didn't  permit  her  to  go  back 
alone,  however." 

"Then  she's  gone  back  already?" 

"She  left  at  dark  this  evening — had  her  own 
reasons  for  not  wanting  to  stay — and  I  commis- 
sioned your  friend  Dags  to  go  with  her.  He  lives 
somewhere  in  the  same  direction,  doesn  't  he  ? " 

"You  know  Dags,  too?"  Kirk  exclaimed. 

"My  dear  boy,"  she  replied  with  a  somewhat 
patronizing  air,  "I  have  not  been  in  your  town  for 
two  whole  days  for  nothing." 

Suddenly  Kirk  recalled  Phil  Roche's  affair  of 
the  previous  summer.  After  all,  Jule  Allen  was  a 
young  woman  by  now. 

"She  didn't  come  in  this  morning?"  he  asked 
quickly. 

"About  half  an  hour  ahead  of  you,"  Marion 
Curtis  replied. 

(8) 


108  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Kirk  suddenly  thought  of  the  phantom  racer 
that  had  run  ahead  of  him  in  the  early  morning. 

"Good  Lord!"  he  said  to  himself. 

"What's  the  matter  now!" 

"Do  you  know  what  it  means  to  a  running  team 
to  have  a  loose  leader  out  on  the  trail  ahead — 
always  just  round  the  next  turn — barking  and 
raising  particular  Cain  all  to  himself  ? ' ' 

"I  can  understand,  though  I've  never  seen  it 
done,"  she  replied. 

"Well — next  best  is  to  have  another  team  lead- 
ing if  you  want  to  get  the  most  out  of  a  string  of 
dogs.  I  wonder  where  she  came  in  on  the  trail?" 

Kirk  was  still  puzzling  over  the  problem  when 
Marion  Curtis,  after  a  considerable  period  of 
silence,  spoke  again. 

"Well,  you'll  need  all  the  loose  leaders  and 
everything  else  on  the  trail  ahead  of  you  in  the 
race  you're  going  to  run  now,  Kirk  Brander." 

How  truly  she  spoke  she  did  not  know  at  the 
time,  for  next  morning  before  daybreak,  Phil 
Eoche  was  on  the  trail  with  a  fresh  dog-team.  The 
trail  led  in  the  same  direction  that  Dags  and  Jule 
Allen  had  taken  just  twelve  hours  before.  In  the 
cariole  was  Warren  Paxton  ready  with  a  new  offer 
which  he  proposed  to  make  personally  to  that 
stubborn  old  Englishman,  John  Allen.  He  felt 
that  his  offer  was  extravagant  but  he  was  going 
to  make  sure  of  at  least  one  thing — Henry  Tyne 
and  Marion  Curtis  were  not  going  to  get  their 
hands  on  the  White  Squaw. 


CHAPTER    XL 

ALTHOUGH  Paxton  had  done  his  best  to 
keep  his  departure  from  town  a  secret, 
Ruth  Mackay  was  at  Kirk's  door  with  the 
news  before  ten  o  'clock.  The  girl  made  no  reply 
to  Kirk's  question  as  to  how  she  had  come  by  her 
information.  On  other  occasions  Kirk  had  ob- 
served the  same  reticence  in  Ruth's  manner  and 
although  it  had  sometimes  tried  his  patience  he 
remembered  that  in  the  veins  of  her  mother's 
people  there  had  run  the  blood  of  the  reticent  Cree. 

"When  Ruth  had  gone,  Kirk  went  at  once  to1 
Marion  Curtis.  She  received  the  announcement 
without  the  slightest  excitement.  She  did  not 
need  to  be  told  that  Warren  Paxton  was  on  his 
way  to  John  Allen. 

"How  long  are  they  gone! "  she  asked  after  a 
moment 's  silence. 

" Probably  three  or  four  hours,"  Kirk  replied. 

"How  soon  can  we  leave?" 

"I  can  be  ready  in  an  hour,  but  you — you 
can't " 

"I've  got  to  go,"  she  interrupted.  "We  can't 
let  him  gain  a  single  advantage  at  this  stage.  If 
Jule  Allen  can  make  the  trip,  I  can.  Get  ready." 

109 


110  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"All  right,"  Kirk  replied.  "I'll  be  ready  by 
eleven." 

For  an  hour  Kirk  gave  himself  feverishly  to 
his  preparations  for  the  trip.  John  Allen's  cabin 
was  almost  a  hundred  miles  to  the  north.  If  they 
were  to  reach  the  end  of  their  journey  in  time  to 
check  Paxton's  move  the  trip  would  have  to  be 
made  almost  without  a  break. 

By  eleven  o'clock  they  were  on  their  way. 

"We  shall  not  talk  another  word  of  business 
until — until  we  have  to,"  Marion  Curtis  said  as 
they  took  the  trail  up  the  river. 

And  Kirk  agreed.  The  trail  is  not  a  good  place 
to  talk  anyhow.  It  is  a  place  rather  for  long 
silences  when  the  mind  and  heart  expand  under 
the  magic  influences  of  nature.  And  Kirk  gave 
his  mind  to  the  dogs,  his  own  dogs  this  time,  with 
the  untiring  Bingo  in  the  lead.  The  trail  which 
they  followed  was  the  same  as  that  over  which  the 
race  had  been  run  and  over  which  Dags  and  Jule 
Allen  had  gone  the  night  before.  It  was  keen  and 
hard  and  the  dogs  trotted  along  easily,  almost 
playfully,  finding  the  weight  of  Marion  Curtis  in 
the  cariole  scarcely  noticeable  in  their  frisking 
high  spirits. 

The  sun  was  quite  warm  and  the  snow  shone 
with  dazzling  whiteness  wherever  it  lay  open  to 
the  sky.  There  was  romance  in  the  long  stretch 
of  the  great  river  winding  white  and  silent  be- 
tween its  wooded  slopes.  There  was  romance  in 
the  heavy  shores  rising  high  on  either  side,  the 


'THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  111 

still  retreat  of  wild  life  and  the  deep  padded  haunt 
of  the  hunter.  There  was  romance,  too,  in  the 
wide  blue  sky,  the  clean  canopy  of  a  man's  world 
whose  horizons  lay  somewhere  this  side  of  that 
other  world  which  it  shut  out,  the  world  of  smoke 
and  noise  and  corruption.  To  Kirk,  who  had  lived 
the  best  five  years  of  his  life  in  the  north,  the 
romance  was  the  air  he  breathed,  it  was  the 
natural  investiture  of  the  world  that  was  his,  it 
was  simply  living.  He  knew  that  wherever  he 
might  find  failure  and  disappointment  and  de- 
feat, he  could  return  here  and  find  his  veins  filling 
again  with  vigor  and  courage  and  desire.  But  to 
Marion  Curtis,  whose  eyes  had  never  seen  the 
northland  before,  the  romance  was  something  dif- 
ferent. Her  heart  thrilled  to  its  own  bounding 
freedom,  her  blood  raced  with  an  excitement  the 
source  of  which  she  could  not  have  explained,  her 
body  was  quick  with  eagerness  to  try  its  own 
powers.  She  was  intensely  conscious  of  her  own 
beauty,  of  her  womanhood  supreme  in  a  world 
where  elemental  forces  moved  at  their  own  bid- 
ding, where  man  and  nature  were  one  in  a  common 
destiny. 

They  had  planned  to  make  the  trip  as  far  as 
Dags '  cabin  by  late  night,  to  get  an  early  start  the 
next  morning  and  arrive  at  John  Allen's  cabin  as 
nearly  as  possible  with  Roche  and  Paxton.  Dags 
would  be  home,  they  knew ;  Jule  Allen  would  have 
gone  on  alone. 

Late  that  evening  Marion  Curtis  had  a  new  taste 


112  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

of  northland  romance  when  Kirk  stopped  his 
dogs  on  the  rim  of  a  lake,  on  the  other  side  of 
which,  some  twenty  miles  away,  stood  Dags'  cabin. 
They  had  eaten  a  hearty  meal  at  Sturgeon  Land- 
ing, a  piping  hot  dinner  of  moose  steak  and  fried 
potatoes  which  the  trader's  wife  had  prepared  and 
served  them,  but  Kirk  never  went  far  on  the  trail 
without  eating  and  Marion  welcomed  the  sug- 
gestion that  they  should  pause  and  "boil  the 
kettle." 

Just  below  them  the  trail  they  had  been  follow- 
ing, an  old  winter  portage,  dropped  down  to  the 
lake  and  they  could  see  clearly  the  tracks  in  the 
snow  that  had  been  made  by  Roche  and  Paxton, 
and  by  Dags  and  Jule  Allen  the  night  before. 
Marion  stood  a  moment  and  followed  the  long 
track  as  far  as  her  eyes  could  reach.  She  ran 
lightly  down  the  trail  to  the  lake  and  stood  a 
moment  searching  the  horizon  in  every  direction. 
To  the  north  lay  the  lake  with  its  hundreds  of 
small  islands  growing  darker  now  that  the  sun 
was  getting  lower.  On  the  shore  above  her  the 
first  faint  flicker  of  the  little  fire  that  Kirk  was 
making  shone  against  the  dark  background  of 
shadowy  woods.  Sharply  outlined  against  the 
sky  one  tall  spruce  tree  lifted  its  head  clear  above 
the  others  and  stood  out  like  a  sentinel  on  duty. 
She  could  not  help  noticing  that  the  branches  in 
the  middle  of  the  tree  had  been  cut  off  for  a  dis- 
tance of  ten  or  twelve  feet  leaving  only  a  large 
tufted  head  and  a  thick  base  of  branches  near  the 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  113 

ground.  In  the  space  that  had  been  thns  cleared 
of  limbs  two  long  branches  like  the  arms  of  some 
gaunt  spectre  stretched  out  in  opposite  directions 
from  the  tree  trunk,  their  ends  weighted  down 
with  the  soft  snow  that  clung  to  them. 

When  she  went  back  to  where  Kirk  was  busy 
over  the  fire  she  pointed  to  the  tree  and  asked  him 
its  significance. 

"That's  a  lobstick,"  he  replied  without  taking 
the  time  to  look  up.  "All  up  and  down  this  coun- 
try wherever  trails  lead  there  are  lobsticks  to 
point  the  way. ' ' 

"You  mean  guide-posts!" 

He  nodded. 

"The  two  arms  in  the  middle  give  the  directions. 
That  arm  there, ' '  he  said,  pointing  to  the  branch 
on  the  northern  side  of  the  tree,  "shows  the  direc- 
tion we  are  taking  across  the  lake  to  our  friend 
Dags.  When  we  get  there  we  '11  find  another  stick 
— and  others  along  the  way  marking  short-cuts 
and  portages  and  old  trails  that  are  the  only  lines 
of  communication  in  this  part  of  the  world. ' ' 

Then  they  sat  down  side  by  side  on  a  fallen 
spruce  tree  and  drank  their  cups  of  hot  tea  while 
Kirk  told  her  more  of  the  romance  of  the  lobstick, 
how  it  had  been  used  by  the  Indians  as  a  means  of 
marking  the  spot  where  a  hunter  had  killed  a  very 
large  moose,  or  where  one  man  had  buried  an- 
other who  was  his  friend,  or  where  a  young  brave 
had  made  love  to  a  maiden. 

And  Marion  listened  like  a  child  hearing  a  fairy 


114  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

tale,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  fluttering  flame  of  the 
little  fire  at  their  feet,  her  face  glowing  in  the  red 
light  that  danced  in  the  gathering  shadows.  Once 
after  he  had  ceased  speaking  and  as  they  sat  to- 
gether in  silence  watching  the  fire,  Kirk  allowed 
his  eyes  to  rest  a  moment  on  her  face.  As  he  did 
so  she  turned  and  looked  at  him  with  a  directness 
and  frankness  that  startled  him  and  caused  his 
pulses  to  throb.  Before  those  eyes  he  felt  himself 
almost  powerless.  For  a  moment  only  did  she 
look  at  him  so — one  tense  moment  of  recognition. 
Then  she  dropped  her  eyes  quickly  and  her  fingers 
played  with  the  scarlet  fringe  of  the  scarf  she 
wore  about  her  waist.  Kirk  put  out  his  hand  sud- 
denly and  caught  her  fingers.  For  a  moment  he 
held  them  imprisoned,  his  eyes  upon  her  face, 
waiting  for  her  to  raise  her  head.  When  she  fin- 
ally looked  at  him  she  laughed  and  he  released  her 
hand  as  suddenly  as  he  had  seized  it. 

"We're  funny, "  she  said,  getting  up  quickly 
and  walking  a  few  yards  away  from  him  where  she 
stood  and  looked  back  at  him,  laughing. 

"Do  you  find  it  amusing?"  he  asked,  regarding 
her  seriously. 

Between  them  there  was  being  waged  a  battle 
as  old  as  the  centuries.  Kirk  knew,  as  did  Marion 
herself,  that  there  was  little  tenderness  in  the 
fierce  appeal  that  each  made  to  the  other.  Alone 
together,  with  the  great  silence  of  the  north  bear- 
ing down  heavily  about  them,  with  long  miles  sep- 
arating them  from  the  conventions  and  institu- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  115 

tions  that  are  the  trappings  of  the  civilized  world, 
it  was  as  if  they  had  suddenly  become  divested  of 
everything  but  the  most  elemental,  the  most  insist- 
ent upwellings  of  human  desire.  Marion's  laugh 
at  once  maddened  and  disarmed  him,  and  without 
another  word  he  set  about  preparing  to  take  the 
trail. 

When  they  were  finally  on  the  way  again,  the 
stars  had  come  out  overhead  and  the  air  was  fresh 
with  the  crispness  of  the  night-frost.  Less  than 
two  hours  brought  them  inside  the  group  of 
islands  that  lay  close  to  the  shore.  When  they 
swung  round  the  end  of  a  large  island  they  had 
been  skirting  for  more  than  half  a  mile,  the  light 
from  Dags'  cabin  on  shore  shone  clear  to  them 
across  the  snow. 

At  the  first  sight  of  the  light  Marion  exclaimed 
and  Kirk  replied  with  a  light  laugh.  And  in  that 
particular  and  unguarded  moment  there  passed 
between  them  a  recognition  that  throughout  the 
hours  they  had  spent  almost  without  a  word  on 
the  trail  that  day  there  had  grown  up  between 
them  a  kind  of  understanding,  something  like 
intimacy  itself,  that  after  all  served  to  make  them 
sufficient  unto  themselves  in  a  world  where  there 
was  no  one  else  to  look  to  for  companionship. 

The  feeling  lasted  for  only  a  moment  with  Kirk, 
however,  and  when  a  few  minutes  later  he  helped 
Marion  from  the  cariole  and  led  her  to  the  door  of 
Dags'  cabin  he  was  conscious  of  evading  her 
glance  in  which,  he  felt  sure,  lurked  the  teasing, 


116  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

almost  scornful  smile  that  was  disturbing  to  him. 

Kirk  threw  the  door  open  suddenly  upon  Dags 
frying  a  late  supper  of  bacon  over  a  hot  stove. 
What  was  on  his  lips  to  say,  by  way  of  expressing 
his  surprise,  he  checked  suddenly  as  Marion  step- 
ped smiling  through  the  doorway  and  went  toward 
him  with  her  hand  outstretched.  Dags'  face,  as 
he  looked  closely  at  Marion  herself  and  then  past 
her  at  Kirk  who  was  standing  in  the  doorway,  held 
an  expression  that  caused  both  Marion  and  Kirk 
to  laugh. 

"No,  we  haven't  been  married,  and  we're  not 
running  away,"  she  explained,  guessing  what  was 
passing  in  the  old  fellow's  mind. 

"But  we  are  hungry,  Dagsie,"  Kirk  put  in. 

In  a  moment  Marion  had  briefly  explained  their 
sudden  appearance  and  had  learned  from  Dags 
that  Roche  and  Paxton  were  ahead  of  them  about 
two  hours — whereupon  Dags  set  himself  to  pre- 
pare a  meal  large  enough  for  at  least  five.  Marion 
removed  some  of  her  heavier  wraps  and  Kirk  went 
out  to  relieve  his  dogs  of  their  harness. 

Before  returning  to  the  cabin  Kirk  followed  a 
little  beaten  path  through  the  woods  to  a  point 
from  where  he  could  look  out  over  the  frozen, 
snow-covered  surface  of  the  lake.  A  white  moon, 
almost  full,  had  risen  paling  the  stars  with  its 
light.  It  was  one  of  the  nights  that  Kirk  had 
grown  to  love  during  his  life  in  the  north  country. 
The  moonlight  pierced  the  black  shadows  under 
the  trees  where  he  stood  and  lay  in  ragged  white 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  117 

patches  save  where  the  bold  straight  shadows  of 
the  tree-trunks  gave  severity  to  the  patterns  on 
the  snow.  A  short  distance  from  the  shore  and 
for  miles  beyond,  the  low  black  shapes  of  countless 
islands  lay  in  the  elfin  glow  of  moon  and  stars. 
Accustomed  though  he  was  to  scenes  of  rare  na- 
tural beauty,  Kirk  felt  that  he  had  never  seen 
anything  so  beautiful  in  his  life.  He  was  glad  to 
be  alone  to  enjoy  it  and  yet,  with  the  thought  of 
the  nearness  of  Marion  Curtis,  there  welled  up  in 
his  heart  a  yearning,  at  first  vague,  and  then  in- 
tense. 

"When  at  last  he  opened  the  door  of  the  cabin 
and  went  in  he  found  Dags  in  his  normal  mood 
pouring  forth  anathema  on  the  country  and  the 
life  he  had  nevertheless  chosen  for  his  own,  a 
mood  that  persisted  throughout  the  meal  and  well 
into  the  night  while  the  three  sat  round  the  fire 
and  chatted,  Dags  doing  most  of  the  talking  be- 
tween vigorous  puffs  at  his  pipe. 

" People  ain't  what  they  used  to  be/'  Dags  com- 
mented by  way  of  summarizing  his  evening's  phil- 
osophy. *  *  There  used  to  be  honest  men — and  hon- 
est  women,  too — but  they  all  died." 

"You've  lived  too  long  alone,"  Marion  Curtis 
suggested,  "you  should  have  a  wife,  Dags." 

"No,  I  wouldn't  get  married,"  he  replied  seri- 
ously. "What  would  a  woman  do  here?  An*  I 
wouldn't  bring  children  into  the  world  to  live  any- 
where else.  They  think  they  are  fixin'  things  now 
by  this  prohibition  they're  bringin'  in.  Well,  let 


118  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

them  go  ahead  an'  fix.  They'd  have  to  put  a  red- 
coat in  every  cabin  north  of  fifty-three  to  make  it 
work  here.  But  even  if  they  did,  it  wouldn't  mat- 
ter to  me.  I've  drunk  about  as  much  as  is  comin' 
to  me  anyhow.  I've  had  my  share  and  I  admit  I 
like  it.  Some  people  drink — not  because  they  want 
it — but  because  they  want  to  raise  enough  nerve 
to  give  other  people  hell  an'  can't  do  it  without  a 
lot  of  bad  whisky.  Not  me.  I  like  it  an '  I  'm  goin ' 
to  have  it  as  long  as  I  can  buy  a  pound  of  raisins. 
"When  they  close  the  grocery  shops  I'll  begin 
growin'  potatoes  and  savin'  the  skins.  They'll 
have  to  pass  a  law  against  a  man  havin'  his  own 
garden.  Human  nature's  a  stubborn  beast — you 
can  coax  it  a  little  but  when  you  start  pushin'  it, 
it's  liable  to  lie  down  on  you.  Better  leave  it  alone 
— it's  goin'  ahead  fast  enough  anyhow." 

They  sat  late  at  the  table  that  night  and  finally, 
after  everything  possible  had  been  done  to  give 
Marion  Curtis  comfortable  quarters  for  the  night, 
Kirk  got  up  from  the  bench  on  which  he  had  been 
sitting  and  throwing  on  his  mackinaw  and  cap, 
took  his  whip  from  the  wall  and  went  out  to  look 
at  his  dogs  before  turning  in  for  the  night. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  he  stood  again  among  the 
trees  by  the  lake  and  breathed  deeply  of  the  night 
air.  These  were  the  last  rare  moonlit  nights  of 
the  winter  that  was  now  rounding  into  spring.  By 
the  time  the  moon  would  be  full  again,  the  snow 
would  have  gone  and  the  lakes  unsafe  for  travel. 

At  the  sound  of  a  footfall  he  turned  quickly  and 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  119 

beheld  Marion  Curtis  standing  only  a  few  yards 
away,  her  smiling  face  and  her  superb  figure  dap- 
pled in  the  tree-latticed  light  from  the  moon.  In 
that  smile  there  was  revealed  the  side  of  Marion's 
nature  that  at  once  attracted  Kirk  and  made  him 
afraid. 

Unconsciously  his  fingers  tightened  their  ner- 
vous grip  on  the  whip  he  held  in  his  hand.  He 
waited  in  silence  for  her  to  speak — waited  until 
the  silence  became  almost  unbearable. 

"Do  you  know  that  you  annoy  me  terribly," 
she  said  at  last.  Kirk  did  not  know  whether  the 
tone  was  bantering  or  merely  assertive  of  her  own 
self-confidence. 

"I  wasn't  aware  of  the  fact,"  Kirk  replied. 

"You  do,"  she  said  emphatically. 

"Just  how?" 

"Do  you  want  to  know?" 

"I  should  never  have  thought  of  asking  you  if 
I  didn't." 

She  came  towards  him  until  she  stood  no  more 
than  an  arm's  length  away.  For  a  moment  she  re- 
garded him,  smiling  oddly  where  she  stood  with 
the  white  light  of  the  moon  on  her  face. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said  slowly,  "if  you  were- 
n't such  a  boy  I  believe  I  could  make  something 
really  big  out  of  you.  I'd  like  to  hold  the  destiny 
of  a  real  man  in  my  hands.  By  George — I  'd  make 
a  man  of  him." 

Kirk  remembered  suddenly  that  he  was  prob- 
ably a  couple  of  years  older  than  she.  Had  he  al- 


120  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

lowed  himself  to  think  of  it,  however,  he  knew  that 
her  experience  in  a  busy  world  had  given  her  an 
advantage  that  could  scarcely  be  measured  by 
years. 

He  struggled  to  preserve  his  sense  of  humor. 

" You'd  probably  want  to  make  a  fool  of  him 
first,"  he  replied. 

"Is  that  nice?"  she  asked  him  and  her  voice 
tormented  him  with  its  quiet  assurance. 

"Perhaps  not,"  he  replied,  "but  I  think  I'd 
prefer  making  a  man  of  myself  to  having  someone 
else  do  it  for  me." 

She  looked  at  him  seriously  a  moment  before  she 
spoke  again. 

"Two  can  do  more  in  this  world  than  one,  Kirk 
Brander,"  she  said  slowly.  "You  don't  intend  to 
spend  your  whole  life  in  a  country  like  this  ? ' ' 

A  week  ago  Kirk's  reply  would  have  been  full 
of  assurance.  Now,  he  felt  a  strange  hesitancy  in 
committing  himself. 

"I  like  this  country,"  he  replied  evasively. 

* '  Huh — so  do  I, "  she  laughed.  ' '  But  don 't  you 
see — even  Dags  knows  there  is  nothing  here  for 
anyone  with  ambition — nothing,  I  mean,  to  make 
him  want  to  spend  his  life  here." 

"Yes,"  Kirk  responded,  "I  see." 

"And  if  you're  going  to  do  anything  you'll  have 
to  make  a  beginning  soon.  You'll  be  through  with 
this  work  in  a  year.  We  can  hand  it  over  to  some- 
one else  and  you  can  get  out  into  a  world  where 
the  opportunities  are  bigger. J ' 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  121 

There  was  something  in  the  thing  she  was  urg- 
ing upon  him  that  jarred  horribly  with  what  he 
had  come  out  into  the  moonlight  to  enjoy.  He 
wondered  vaguely  if  she  was  unconscious  of  the 
rare  'beauty  of  the  night  and  the  passion  of  its 
silence. 

He  turned  towards  her  and  their  eyes  met.  In 
that  moment  he  seemed  to  see  into  her  very  soul. 
He  glanced  quickly  towards  the  cabin  standing 
back  among  the  trees. 

''Don't  you  think  it's  time  we  were  going  in!" 
he  suggested  quickly. 

He  stepped  past  her  and  started  up  the  path 
towards  the  cabin.  When  he  had  gone  a  half 
dozen  steps  he  realized  that  she  was  still  standing 
where  he  had  left  her.  He  glanced  back.  She  was 
looking  at  him. 

*  *  Come  here ! ' '  she  commanded. 

He  paused  and  stood  with  his  eyes  upon  her. 

"Come  here!"  she  repeated. 

He  went  back  and  stood  beside  her.  She  leaned 
towards  him  almost  imperceptibly  and  he  placed 
his  arm  about  her.  When  their  eyes  met  he  could 
not  help  noticing  the  slow  return  of  the  smile  with 
which  she  had  tormented  him.  An  angry  impulse 
seized  him  and  he  drew  her  forcibly  to  him. 

The  next  moment  she  had  evaded  him  and  he 
was  standing  alone  under  the  shadows  of  the  trees. 
Her  mocking  laughter  came  back  to  him  from 
where  she  stood  in  the  moonlight.  Could  she  have 
known  what  was  passing  in  his  mind  her  mockery 


122  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

would  have  come  abruptly  to  an  end.  But  she  saw 
nothing  except  the  shadowy  figure  of  the  man  she 
had  baffled. 

Suddenly  he  stepped  towards  her.  There  was  a 
stern  deliberateness  in  his  movements  and  his 
face,  now  clearly  visible  in  the  moonlight  into 
which  he  had  moved,  was  dark  with  something  she 
had  not  seen  in  it  before.  His  hand  with  the  whip 
in  it  was  moving  strangely  as  he  dropped  the  long 
lash  and,  without  looking  at  it,  stretched  it  out  in 
the  snow  with  a  quick,  deft  movement.  She  guessed 
what  was  in  his  mind  and  when  he  raised  his  arm 
slowly  she  cowered,  afraid  to  run,  her  pride  for- 
bidding her  to  speak.  Not  until  his  arm  came  above 
his  head  and  the  lash  started  moving  as  if  alive 
did  she  allow  her  voice  to  break  from  her. 

"Don't — don't — please!"  she  pleaded,  and 
moved  towards  him  slowly. 

He  paused  with  his  hand  upraised  until  she 
came  and  stood  trembling  beside  him.  Then  he 
took  her  in  his  arms  and  as  he  felt  her  arms  go  up 
about  his  neck  and  draw  him  down  to  her,  he 
crushed  her  fiercely  to  him  and  pressed  his  mouth 
hard  upon  hers. 

"When  he  drew  back  from  her  a  moment  later 
there  were  tears  in  her  eyes.  He  waited  while  she 
brushed  them  away  and  then  trembling  and  silent 
they  made  their  way  back  slowly  to  the  cabin. 


CHAPTER  XIL 

OLD  John  Allen  had  his  friends  and  his  ene- 
mies. His  friends  insisted  that  he  was  an 
honest  man ;  and  all  his  enemies  could  find 
to  criticize  in  him  was  the  fact  that  he  was  as  stub- 
born as  the  proverbial  mule.  Old  John  Mackay 
had  once  numbered  himself  among  the  friends. 
He  had  prospected  with  John  Allen  for  two  sum- 
mers and  they  had  spent  most  of  one  winter  to- 
gether trapping.  Besides,  they  each  had  a  daugh- 
ter and  sometimes  when  they  smoked  together  of  a 
summer  evening,  after  they  had  grown  tired  of 
talking  of  their  prospects,  John  Mackay  had 
spoken  tenderly  of  his  Ruth,  and  John  Allen  had 
lingered  a  little  over  the  name  of  his  Jule.  And 
they  had  often  dreamed  together  of  a  day  when 
the  girls  would  come  together  and  love  each  other 
as  sisters. 

They  had  spoken  only  once  of  their  wives.  John 
Mackay  had  said  something  that  implied  that 
John  Allen's  wife  was,  at  least,  living. 

The  old  Englishman's  response  had  been  char- 
acteristically brief.  "She's  dead — five  years 
ago,"  he  said. 

The  old  Scotchman  had  received  the  informa- 
tion without  comment.  After  a  long  silence  he 

123 
(9) 


124  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

cpoke  with  at  least  equal  brevity.  "So's  mine — 
eix  years  ago,"  he  announced  without  the  slightest 
intention  of  being  humorous,  and  thereafter 
neither  man  ever  referred  to  the  matter  of  their 
wives  again.  Nor  did  they  ever  discuss  their  res- 
pective attitudes  towards  women  in  general. 

It  was  a  woman,  however,  that  finally  brought 
their  friendship  to  an  end — a  woman,  and  John 
Allen's  stubbornness.  They  had  staked  claims 
near  the  Lucky  Strike  before  the  existence  of  that 
property  had  been  even  thought  of.  They  had 
heard  the  news  of  its  discovery  and  had  watched 
the  development  of  the  mine  with  interest  at  high 
pitch;  they  had  noted  with  satisfaction  the  rush 
of  prospectors  who  came  in  on  the  mere  chance 
of  striking  something  good  in  the  neighborhood, 
had  clung  to  their  own  claims  in  the  face  of  temp- 
ting offers  and  had  even  bought  up  a  few  claims 
that  had  been  staked  close  to  their  own.  Together 
they  had  fought  off  Paxton's  efforts  to  buy  in 
practically  everything  of  promise  in  the  district 
— and  they  were  still  on  the  ground  of  their  ori- 
ginal locations. 

But  to  return  to  the  dispute  that  had  separated 
the  two  old  friends.  John  Allen  had  selected  for 
his  cabin  a  site  that  had  won  his  heart  the  moment 
his  eyes  fell  upon  it.  It  was  not  until  he  had  built 
the  best  log  cabin  in  the  country,  however,  and  had 
gone  to  Saskatoon  for  Jule  and  returned  with  a 
half  dozen  large  freight  canoes  loaded  with  fur- 
nishings and  supplies  for  the  new  home,  that  he 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  123 

became  convinced  that  he  had  found  the  sweetest 
corner  in  all  the  world.  For  a  short  time  he  was 
happier  than  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life  before. 
He  moved  about  leisurely  in  his  canoe,  and  with  his 
almost  silent  partner,  old  John  Mackay,  staked 
new  claims  or  examined  the  claims  that  others 
had  staked.  Some  day,  if  he  had  only  the  patience 
to  wait,  Jule  Allen  would  be  the  daughter  of  a 
rich  man  with  the  world  before  her.  And  John 
Allen  had  the  patience.  Sometimes  he  showed  so 
much  of  it  that  John  Mackay  felt  annoyed,  though 
he  never  spoke  of  it.  It  began  to  try  John  Mac- 
kay 's  patience,  however,  when  old  John  Allen 
started  in  to  make  a  garden.  Somehow  or  other, 
experimenting  with  hardy  varieties  of  potatoes 
and  early  maturing  vegetables  was  not  in  line  with 
prospecting.  John  Mackay  watched  him  one  even- 
ing digging  in  his  garden  and  then  went  off  alone 
for  a  stroll  to  the  other  end  of  the  property. 
There  he  found  an  open  space  where  the  rock  was 
exposed  to  the  water's  edge  save  for  a  thin  cover- 
ing of  dry  moss  and  a  thin  fringe  of  reeds  that 
came  up  out  of  the  water  a  few  feet  from  the  shore. 
Mentally  he  made  a  note  of  the  spot.  If  anything 
should  happen  between  him  and  John  Allen,  he 
would  build  a  cabin  for  himself  right  there  where 
the  bare  rock  made  gardening  impossible.  He 
would  send  for  his  daughter  Ruth  and  they  wonld 
live  securely  and  contentedly  by  themselves. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait  before  his  fears  were 
vindicated.    One  day  John  Allen  announced  casu- 


126  PHE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

ally  that  he  was  going  to  have  an  Indian  woman 
come  to  the  cabin  to  do  his  housework  and  keep 
Jule  company.  There  were  no  words  between  the 
two.  John  Mackay  was  determined  not  to  live 
under  the  same  roof  with  a  woman.  John  Allen 
had  only  to  look  at  his  old  partner  to  know  what 
was  passing  in  his  mind.  He  quickly  estimated 
the  value  of  John  Mackay 's  holdings  and  offered 
him  a  price.  But  he  had  not  read  his  partner's 
mind  clearly.  For  the  first  time  in  their  friend- 
ship, John  Mackay  *s  anger  got  the  best  of  him  and 
John  Allen  learned  that  his  partner  had  not  staked 
claims  merely  because  he  wanted  to  sell  them  for 
whatever  he  could  get  out  of  them.  He  had  come 
there  because  he  belonged,  and  he  would  stay. 
They  divided  the  property  between  them,  adjust- 
ed their  lines  and  named  the  new  properties  The 
Micmac  and  The  White  Squaw.  The  next  day 
John  Allen,  feeling  alone  even  with  his  daughter, 
stood  in  the  doorway  of  his  cabin  on  The  White 
Squaw  and  heard  the  sound  of  John  Mackay '& 
axe  at  work  at  the  far  end  of  The  Micmac. 

From  that  time  forward  the  two  old  partners 
lived  to  themselves.  Euth  Mackay  had  remained 
in  school  at  The  Pas ;  Jule  Allen  had  been  permit- 
ted to  visit  the  little  town  only  twice  in  five  years. 
One  thing,  however,  kept  the  two  men  together  in 
spirit  even  if  they  had  no  more  than  a  passing  nod 
for  each  other  when  they  met.  They  realized  the 
difficult  fight  they  both  had  to  put  up  to  defend 
themselves  against  the  encroachments  of  outsid- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  127 

ers.  Of  these  outsiders  "Warren  K.  Paxton  was 
undoubtedly  the  most  formidable.  He  had  bought 
up  practically  everything  in  sight  that  showed  any 
promise  whatever  of  latent  wealth  and  had  ap- 
proached both  Allen  and  Mackay  frequently  with 
offers  for  their  holdings.  To  all  his  offers,  how- 
ever, they  gave  the  same  brusque  reply  and  Pax- 
ton  had  given  up  attempting  to  arrange  terms 
with  them  on  what  he  considered  a  business  basis. 
He  did  not  fail  to  use  other  means  of  bringing  the 
stubborn  old  prospectors  to  time,  however,  and  for 
a  year  he  had  done  everything  in  his  power  to  force 
them  to  sell.  All  he  got  for  his  pains  was  an  in- 
creased stubbornness  that  was  tinctured  now  with 
something  of  hatred  besides.  John  Mackay  had 
succeeded  twice  in  selling  an  option  on  his  prop- 
erty to  companies  that  had  done  a  considerable 
amount  of  drilling  to  test  the  values  concealed 
underground  and  had  failed  to  take  up  the  option 
when  they  found  themselves  hampered  by  the  lack 
of  capital.  John  Allen's  property  had  remained 
practically  as  it  was  the  day  he  staked  it,  save  for 
the  assessment  work  which  the  law  required  him 
to  do  and  a  small  amount  of  drilling  which  he  had 
had  done  by  one  of  the  companies  working  on 
Mackay 's  property. 

From  their  cabins  they  watched  the  work  that 
Paxton  was  doing  on  his  holdings.  The  Micmac 
and  The  White  Squaw  lay  together  along  one  side 
of  a  little  lake  and  a  narrow  rapid  creek  that  ran 
into  it.  Paxton  '&  property  lay  along  the  creek 


128  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

on  the  other  side  and  extended  a  short  distance 
also  along  the  opposite  shore  of  the  lake.  Eipple 
Creek,  the  old  partners  had  named  the  creek  when 
they  put  in  their  stakes,  and  Hippie  Lake  the  low 
lying  sheltered  stretch  of  water  out  of  which  they 
had  paddled  on  that  quiet  summer  evening  years 
before  after  a  long  day's  prospecting.  Just  above 
the  place  where  the  creek  emptied  into  the  lake 
ran  the  border  line  between  Saskatchewan  and 
Manitoba,  on  the  other  side  of  which  lay  the  bulk 
of  Paxton's  holdings. 

Jule  Allen  had  loved  the  place  from  the  moment 
of  her  landing.  She  loved  the  cabin,  the  woods, 
the  hills,  the  lake,  and  the  little  creek.  But  most  of 
all  she  loved  the  falls  where  the  clear  blue  water 
of  the  creek  gathered  in  a  wide,  quiet  pool  before 
it  rounded  out  over  the  rock  and  plunged  into  an- 
other pool  below,  foaming,  turbulent,  eddying,  and 
hurried  down  to  the  peaceful  level  of  the  lake.  The 
fact  that  two  wooden  crosses  on  the  shore  just  be- 
low the  falls  marked  the  graves  of  two  young  pros- 
pectors who  had  foolishly  tried  to  run  the  rapids 
in  their  canoe  only  gave  an  air  of  tragic  mystery 
to  the  place  and  the  horror  of  the  incident  itself 
soon  wore  off  as  the  months  passed  and  the  stern 
beauty  of  the  rapids  gradually  cast  its  spell  about 
her.  Hour  after  hour  she  had  sat  on  the  high  rock 
that  stood  above  the  falls,  content  only  to  watch 
the  water,  limpid  blue  and  marked  with  foam,  and 
to  listen  to  the  ceaseless  roar  of  its  breaking  on 
the  rocks  below.  Each  summer  since  her  coming 


THE  LOBSTICK  TBAIL  129 

she  had  given  the  falls  a  different  name  as  suited 
her  fancy,  but  the  rock  she  had  called  Eagle's 
Head  from  the  first  day  she  had  climbed  down 
along  its  ragged  side  to  where  an  eagle  had  built 
its  nest.  And  without  knowing  it  Jule  Allen  had 
grown  to  feel  that  this  little  sheltered  spot  in  the 
woods,  this  little  cabin  within  sound  of  the  rushing 
rapids,  this  little  lake  across  which  the  sun  set 
each  evening — this  was  her  home,  the  one  corner 
in  all  the  world  in  which  she  belonged  and  in  which 
she  could  find  happiness.  Nor  did  her  feelings 
change  as  she  sat  evenings  and  listened  to  her 
father  as  he  told  her  of  the  fight  he  was  putting  up 
to  keep  the  place  their  own  and  of  the  plans  he  had 
for  the  future. 

Once,  just  a  year  ago,  in  answer  to  some  strange 
npwelling  of  emotion  within  her  she  had  listened 
to  the  words  of  a  stranger  who  had  told  her  of  the 
great  world  outside,  a  world  she  had  almost  for- 
gotten already,  and  thrilled,  more  perhaps  by  the 
wakening  of  her  own  womanhood,  she  had  given 
her  consent  to  leave  and  to  begin  life  anew  in 
strange  surroundings.  The  stranger  was  Phil 
Roche.  Once  she  had  got  free  from  the  spell  of  his 
words,  however,  and  had  had  time  to  think  it  all 
over  quietly,  seated  on  the  rock  high  above  the 
falls,  she  knew  that  she  could  not  go  away.  Then 
for  the  first  time  she  confessed  it  all  to  her  father 
who  heard  her  story  without  any  show  of  surprise, 
hired  a  couple  of  Indians  in  whom  he  could  place 
confidence,  and  sent  her  off  to  Cumberland  House 


130  ffHE  LOBSTIOK  TRAIL 


to  meet  Phil  Roche  and  to  tell  him  her  trne  mind. 
In  his  own  canoe,  with  a  half-breed  in  the  bow,  he 
accompanied  her  half  way  and  making  camp  on  a 
little  island  in  the  lake,  calmly  awaited  her  return. 
When,  late  that  night,  she  joined  him,  they  put 
back  again  to  the  cabin  and  neither  of  them  ever 
.mentioned  the  affair  again. 

Jule  Allen's  trip  to  The  Pas  at  the  time  of  the 
dog  Derby  had  been  made  because  John  Allen  had 
agreed  to  meet  Marion  Curtis  in  town  on  the  day 
of  the  race  and  when  the  time  came  had  found  him- 
self unable  to  leave  the  house.  Jule's  going  was 
her  own  suggestion  and  although  she  had  gone 
about  with  her  dogs  wherever  she  wished  for  three 
winters,  old  John  Allen  found  himself  awaiting 
her  return  with  an  utterly  unwarranted  anxiety. 
Nearly  all  the  second  night  he  had  lain  awake  ob- 
sessed by  the  fear  that  some  unnatural  harm  had 
befallen  her.  The  next  day  he  had  sent  the  Indian 
woman  out  to  the  top  of  the  hill  that  lay  back  of 
the  cabin  to  watch  for  her.  Before  Jule  left  they 
'  had  set  an  hour  for  her  probable  return,  barring 
accident,  and  as  the  time  arrived  and  then  passed 
John  Allen  found  it  impossible  to  remain  in  bed. 
Getting  up  he  wrapped  himself  in  a  heavy  blanket 
and  seated  himself  by  the  little  window  where  he 
could  see  the  trail  for  some  distance  up  the  side 
of  the  hill.  At  last  when  he  saw  the  woman  com- 
ing through  the  trees  he  got  up  and  went  back  to 
bed  again.  Half  an  hour  later  Jule  drove  her  dogs 
up  to  the  doorway  and  leaping  out  of  the  cariole 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  131 

ran  in  and  threw  herself  beside  her  father's  Bed, 
laughing  as  he  told  her  his  fears  and  giving  him 
the  stray  bits  of  news  she  had  gathered  on  her 
brief  visit  to  town. 

Concerning  her  meeting  with  Marion  Curtis 
she  had  little  to  say  beyond  the  fact  that  she  had 
informed  her  of  John  Allen 's  inability  to  fulfil  his 
promise  to  meet  her  in  town.  But  in  Jule  Allen's 
heart  there  was  much  that  she  might  have  said,  for 
Marion  Curtis  had  affected  her  strangely.  There 
was  much  about  the  woman  that  appealed  very 
strongly  to  Jule.  Her  beauty,  her  dress,  her  man- 
ner of  talking  had  won  her  admiration.  And  yet 
a  hidden  instinct  had  made  her  almost  dislike  her. 
They  were  of  two  different  worlds,  Jule  Allen  had 
felt  that  from  the  moment  of  their  first  meeting, 
and  with  little  or  nothing  in  common  save  their 
sex  and  the  natural  instincts  that  go  with  it,  they 
could  never  meet  on  grounds  of  intimacy.  Jule 
admired  Marion  Curtis  in  a  purely  objective,  im- 
personal way,  but  was  at  the  same  time  repelled 
by  the  utter  complexity  of  her  personality.  All 
the  way  home  she  had  puzzled  over  it  and  that 
night,  blissfully  content  again  in  the  security  of 
her  own  bed,  she  lay  awake  thinking  of  her. 

Early  the  next  afternoon  Paxton  and  Phil 
Eoche  arrived  unannounced  before  John  Allen's 
cabin.  Jule  was  out  at  the  time  and  learned  of  the 
presence  of  the  visitors  from  the  Indian  woman 
who  came  out  to  find  her.  When  Jule  entered  the 
cabin  she  sensed  something  unpleasant  at  once. 


132  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

The  fact  that  Phil  Koche  was  there  caused  her  no 
discomfort,  whatever,  but  Paxton's  presence  made 
her  feel  uneasy.  She  could  not  help  the  feeling  of 
pity  that  seized  her  at  the  sight  of  her  father  sit- 
ting up  in  bed,  his  face  white  and  troubled,  listen- 
ing to  the  unruffled  talk  of  Warren  Paxton.  Even 
with  her  own  lack  of  experience  in  the  world  out- 
side, she  instinctively  felt  something  of  the  un- 
equal nature  of  the  fight  which  these  men  were 
carrying  on.  Now  as  she  listened  to  their  talking 
she  grew  almost  to  hate  the  sound  of  Paxton's 
voice,  though  as  yet  there  had  been  no  mention 
made  of  the  purpose  of  his  visit.  She  glanced  only 
once  or  twice  at  Phil  Eoche  but  it  was  sufficient  to 
convince  her  that  he  was  rather  enjoying  the  very 
thing  that  was  giving  her  pain.  And  in  that  mo- 
ment she  hated  him  with  all  her  heart. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  flurry  without  and  Jule 
went  to  the  door.  Her  surprise  at  seeing  Marion 
Curtis  was  nothing  to  the  surprise  that  Paxton 
experienced  on  hearing  the  sound  of  her  voice. 

When  Marion  entered  the  cabin  a  moment  later 
with  Kirk  Brander,  Paxton  got  up  and  looked  at 
her  with  his  thin  smile  covering  the  bitterest  mood 
he  had  known  for  months.  For  once  he  was  genu- 
inely angry  at  Marion  Curtis  and  craved,  above 
everything  in  the  world,  an  opportunity  to  tell 
her  what  he  thought.  But  her  jaunty  manner  and 
her  self-assurance  threw  him  immediately  upon  a 
desperate  defensive  in  which  he  realized  that  all 
his  self-control  would  be  necessary  if  he  was  not 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  133 

to  make  himself  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  the 
others.  Marion's  sudden  and  unexpected  arrival 
brought  matters  quickly  to  a  head.  After  the 
necessary  introductions  had  been  disposed  of  in 
an  atmosphere  in  which  Marion  alone  seemed  to  be 
in  cool  possession  of  her  full  powers,  there  fol- 
lowed a  brief  silence  while  John  Allen  looked  from 
one  to  another  of  his  visitors  and  tried  to  read  in 
their  faces  the  significance  of  their  unannounced 
visit. 

"We  might  as  well  get  to  business  at  once," 
Paxton  finally  suggested,  and  his  voice  had  taken 
on  its  accustomed  brusqueness.  "I've  come  out 
to  make  you  another  offer  on  this  property,  John 
Allen,  and  I'm  willing  to  meet  you  on  your  own 
terms  if  you're  willing  to  talk  business." 

Marion  Curtis  was  quick  to  take  advantage  of 
Paxton 's  pause.  ' '  And  I  've  come  out  prepared  to 
bid  a  little  higher  than  anything  Mr.  Paxton  will 
offer  you, ' '  she  replied. 

"You  are  making  a  wild  statement,  Mrs.  Cur- 
tis," Paxton  observed  with  an  effort  to  remain 
cool. 

"I  don't  think  so,  Mr.  Paxton,"  she  replied.  "If 
I  am  I'm  willing  for  once  in  my  life  to  back  up 
any  wild  statement  I  make.  But  I  know  pretty 
well  what  you  are  going  to  offer  Mr.  Allen,  and  I 
know  I  can  better  it.  There  shouldn't  be  much 
wildness  about  that." 

Paxton  grunted  and  turned  expectantly  to  John 
Allen.  Marion  Curtis  allowed  her  eyes  to  rest  a 


134  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

moment  on  Paxton  and  then  turned  with  a  smile  to 
look  at  the  white  face  of  the  old  prospector.  From 
where  she  sat  back  from  the  group  Jule  Allen 
could  see  her  father 's  face  clearly.  With  the  main 
facts  of  the  case  before  him,  John  Allen  was  more 
like  himself  again.  The  sudden  descent  of  four 
visitors  had  seemed  so  mysterious  at  first  that  he 
was  troubled  to  know  what  new  move  he  was  going 
to  be  called  upon  to  check.  But  here  was  a  simple 
situation,  after  all,  where  two  people  with  money 
had  come  to  bid  against  each  other  for  the  posses- 
sion of  his  property.  The  troubled  look  faded 
gradually  from  his  face.  He  lifted  himself  to  a 
more  erect  position  and  cleared  his  voice.  Then 
he  hesitated  and  Jule's  heart  warmed  as  she 
watched  her  -father's  face  grow  dark  with  the 
spirit  of  the  fighter  that  rose  within  him.  She  had 
feared  for  her  father  while  he  was  perplexed. 
Now  that  he  was  growing  angry  her  fear  left  her 
suddenly  and  in  its  place  there  came  something 
that  was  almost  rejoicing. 

"Paxton,"  John  Allen  said  at  last,  and  his  voice 
was  cold  and  very  direct,  "for  three  years  I  have 
tried  to  get  a  square  deal  from  you.  At  one  time 
I  would  have  sold  out  to  you  at  a  decent  figure — 
half,  maybe,  of  what  you  are  ready  to  offer  to  me 
now.  For  three  years  I  peddled  my  holdings  with- 
out finding  a  man  with  faith  enough  in  this  coun- 
try to  put  a  dollar  into  it.  When  I  went  to  yon 
last  year  and  showed  you  what  the  drill  had  un- 
covered you  offered  me  just  about  as  much  as  I'd 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  135 

offer  yon  for  a  piece  of  ground  to  make  a  back 
yard.  "When  I  told  yon  what  I  thonght  of  yonr 
offer  yon  told  me  to  come  back  when  I  changed  my 
mind." 

Paxton  moved  nneasily.  * '  That  was  only  a  way 
of  doing  business,  John,"  he  said  in  an  effort  to 
calm  the  old  man's  rising  anger. 

"Yonr  way,  Paxton ! "  John  Allen  almost  shout- 
ed the  words.  * '  It  isn  't  my  way — it  never  was  my 
way.  I  told  yon  then  that  I'd  never  come  back 
and  I  never  have.  I  never  intend  to." 

His  face  was  tight-drawn  now  and  his  hand 
trembled  as  he  spoke. 

"It's  your  way  of  doing  business  that  has  made 
me  lose  all  the  faith  I  ever  had  in  men  of  your 
type.  They  all  do  business  in  the  same  way.  And 
you  couldn't  buy  The  "White  Squaw  to-day  if  yon 
had  a  cheque  with  yon  for  a  half  million  dollars !" 

He  turned  and  looked  at  Marion  Curtis. 

"I  don't  know  how  yon  do  business,  Mrs.  Cur- 
tis," he  said,  a  little  more  quietly.  "Some  day  I 
might  talk  to  you — I  don't  know.  Just  now  I've 
made  my  own  plans  and  I'm  going  to  carry  them 
out." 

"I'm  not  here  to  buy  unless  yon  want  to  sell," 
she  replied  frankly.  * '  Mr.  Paxton  knows,  and  yon 
may  as  well  know,  that  I  am  here  to  see  that  he 
doesn't  get  The  "White  Squaw.  I  shall  be  perfectly 
satisfied  to  see  yon  carry  out  your  own  plans  pro- 
vided, in  the  end,  yon  do  not  find  it  necessary  to 


136  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

surrender  to  the  interests  we  are  competing 
against. ' ' 

"I  shall  look  to  that,  Mrs.  Curtis,"  John  Allen 
replied.  "The  fact  is — I  found  the  property  my- 
self— I  intend  to  work  it  myself." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  protest  from  both  Pax- 
ton  and  Marion  Curtis. 

"I  know  what  it  means,"  he  hurried  to  explain. 
"It'll  take  money — it'll  take  energy — it'll  take 
time.  I've  got  enough  money  to  start  on  and  I'll 
go  as  far  as  it  will  take  me.  I've  got  faith  in  the 
country  and  I  have  confidence  in  its  future,  and, 
anyhow,  I  'm  going  to  live  the  rest  of  my  days  here 
no  matter  what  happens.  My  roots  have  gone 
down  and  I  can't  leave.  When  I've  spent  my 
money,  perhaps  you'll  see  better  what  I  have  here 
and  then  maybe  you'll  come  to  me.  If  I  can't 
show  anything— the  loss  will  be  mine.  And  whose 
should  it  be?" 

From  behind  Marion  Curtis,  Kirk  Brander 
looked  steadily  at  John  Allen's  face.  There  was 
much  in  the  old  man's  eyes  and  in  the  lines  about 
his  mouth  that  was  deeply  pathetic.  There  was 
even  more  of  it  in  his  voice.  There  was  energy, 
even  determination  there;  one  might  even  hope 
that  John  Allen  would  live  for  years  yet  and  see 
the  day  when  men  of  Paxton's  type  would  come 
to  him  merely  on  the  basis  of  good  business  and 
meet  him  on  terms  of  equality.  And  yet  Kirk 
could  not  help  feeling  regret  that  the  old  prospec- 
tor's later  years  should  be  spent  in  a  conflict  with 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  137 

men  of  such  ruthless  methods  as  Paxton  would 
unhesitatingly  employ  to  serve  his  own  ends.  Ul- 
timately, Kirk  knew,  John  Allen  would  have  to 
come  to  terms  with  the  world.  It  was  a  pity  that 
he  should  spend  what  was  left  to  him  of  life  in  a 
futile  struggle  against  hopeless  odds. 

Warren  Paxton 's  previous  dealings  with  John 
Allen  had  'been  enough  to  convince  him  on  this 
occasion  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said 
on  the  subject.  He  looked  round  at  Roche  and 
the  latter  moved  towards  the  door. 

"I'm  going  to  warn  you,  John,"  Paxton  said 
as  he  got  up  from  his  chair,  "that  you're  going  to 
play  this  fool  game  just  a  day  too  long." 

"Well,  it's  my  game — and  I'm  going  to  play  it 
my  way  from  now  on,"  John  Allen  replied. 

"And  I'll  say  the  same  thing  to  you,  Marion 
Curtis,"  Paxton  replied,  turning  to  look  at  her 
where  she  was  still  sitting  near  Kirk  Brander. 

"Mr.  Allen's  answer  is  my  answer,  too,"  she 
replied. 

Paxton  sniffed  a  little  impatiently  as  he  strode 
towards  the  door.  He  seemed  on  the  point  of  say- 
ing something,  looked  quickly  at  Kirk,  and  then, 
opening  the  door  passed  out  followed  'by  Phil 
Roche. 

Kirk  left  Marion  Curtis  abruptly  and  went  out. 
He  found  Paxton  standing  alone  before  the  door- 
way. Phil  Roche  had  gone  off  a  short  distance  to 
where  his  dogs  were  lying  curled  up  in  the  snow 
under  the  trees, 


138  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL. 

"And  I've  got  someone  who  will  watch  yon, 
young  man/*  Paxton  said  as  if  he  were  simply 
continuing  the  conversation. 

"I  haven't  had  any  trouble  lately  in  looking  af- 
ter myself, "  Kirk  replied. 

"Well,  your  trouble's  starting." 

He  left  Kirk  and  walked  quickly  to  where  Roche 
was  standing  beside  his  team.  Kirk's  eyes  were 
upon  Roche  but  between  them  there  had  arisen 
eince  the  day  of  the  race  a  feeling  that  awaited 
only  the  proper  time  and  place  to  give  itself  ex- 
pression. Perhaps  Roche  felt  much  as  Kirk  felt, 
that  when  they  came  to  settle  their  score  the  issue 
would  be  their  own,  and  for  that  settlement  they 
needed*  no  audience.  He  stood  watching  Paxton 
and  Roche  until  they  had  crossed  the  creek  and 
disappeared  among  the  trees  on  the  other  side. 
Then  he  turned  and  went  back  into  the  cabin. 

As  he  closed  the  door  behind  him  he  noticed  that 
Jule  had  come  out  of  the  corner  where  she  had 
been  sitting  and  was  standing  now  beside  Marion 
Curtis.  And  for  a  moment  as  he  looked  at  them 
he  could  not  help  recognizing  the  sharp  contrast 
which  the  two  made.  Jule  was  young  with  a  youth 
that  would  never  grow  old.  There  was  warm  life 
in  her  dark  hair  and  eyes,  her  rounded  cheeks  and 
full  lips,  and  in  her  young  body  the  easy  pose  of 
one  whose  heart  has  expanded  in  quiet  places. 
Hers  was  the  pride  of  clean  blood  and  simple 
hopes.  Marion  Curtis,  whose  pride  was  disdain, 
had  come  out  of  a  life  that  had  once  been  his,  a 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  139 

life  that  he  tad  left  because  it  had  begun  to  stifle 
him.  Jule  Allen  was  in  her  natural  setting  here 
in  this  simple  place  where  Marion  Curtis  was  an 
intruder. 

And  for  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  Kirk  Bran- 
der  that  perhaps  Jule  Allen  might  look  upon  him 
also  as  an  intruder — and  he  found  the  thought 
strangely  disquieting. 


CHAPTEE 


THAT  night  Marion  Curtis  accepted  the  hos- 
pitality of  Jule  Allen  while  Kirk  took  his 
way  through  the  woods  to  old  John  Mac- 
kay's  cabin.    On  the  other  side  of  Eipple  Creek, 
Eoche  and  Paxton  made  themselves  comfortable 
in  one  of  the  cabins  the  latter  had  built  on  his 
property  the  previous  summer. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  before  Kirk  turned  out  the 
next  morning,  helped  himself  liberally  to  John 
Mackay's  store  of  provisions,  and  conscious  that 
Marion  Curtis  would  probably  be  in  no  great 
hurry  to  leave  the  comfortable  quarters  in  John 
Allen's  cabin,  struck  out  alone  to  get  his  first  look 
at  the  property,  the  development  of  which  he  was 
to  supervise  during  the  coming  months.  From  the 
cabin  he  took  his  way  along  the  shore  of  the  lake 
for  a  short  distance  and  then  turning  abruptly 
away  from  the  lake  climbed  the  hill  that  sloped 
gradually  upwards  from  the  shore.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  stood  on  the  crest  of  the  hill  where  he 
commanded  a  view,  not  only  of  the  property  itself 
with  its  half  dozen  deserted  cabins  huddled  to- 
gether beside  the  little  lake,  but  of  the  whole  dis- 
trict with  hills  shouldering  up  from  the  lake  shore 
and  covered  over  with  thick  growths  of  spruce. 

140 


THE  LOBSTICK  TEAIL  141 

Here  and  there  where  the  hills  had  been  swept  by 
fire,  white  expanses  of  snow  shone  in  the  bright 
sunlight.  The  lake  itself  with  its  little  bays  and 
tree-clad  islands  held  promise  of  hidden  beauties 
that  awaited  only  the  coming  of  summer  to  unveil 
them  to  the  eye. 

But  sensitive  as  Kirk  was  to  the  natural  beauty 
of  the  place  his  imagination  was  at  work  on  an- 
other picture.  He  saw  the  hillside  just  below  him 
quicken  into  life  and  activity ;  he  saw  the  trees  fall 
back  and  in  their  places  come  houses  and  streets 
with  people  walking  about  in  busy  pursuits;  h& 
heard  the  hum  of  a  great  town  at  work,  the  cease- 
less grind  of  its  wheels,  the  constant  rush  of  its 
traffic.  And  he  saw  himself  there,  something  more 
than  a  mere  part  of  it,  the  embodiment  rather  of 
its  creative  spirit,  the  inspiration  of  its  enterprise. 

Suddenly  from  somewhere  quite  close,  it  seemed 
only  a  few  yards  away,  there  came  the  confused 
sound  of  dogs  fighting  and  a  girl's  voice  breaking 
through  with  sharp  commands.  Turning  and  look- 
ing off  down  the  hill  he  saw  the  dogs  tumbling 
about  in  the  snow  near  the  edge  of  a  clear  space 
on  the  hillside.  Close  by  stood  Jule  Allen  doing 
her  best  to  drive  them  apart  but  with  little  success. 
In  a  moment  Kirk  was  off  down  the  hill  and  round- 
ing a  little  clump  of  underbrush  came  suddenly 
into  the  open  where  he  had  a  full  view  of  the  fight. 
Jule  Allen,  whip  in  hand,  was  doing  her  best  to 
part  the  dogs,  one  of  them  her  own  and  the  other 
a  dog  from  Kirk's  own  team  that  had  somehow 


142  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

strayed  away  from  the  others.  Jule's  dog  had 
been  hitched  to  a  small  toboggan  but  one  of  the 
traces  had  broken  during  the  fight  and  dangled  at 
his  side. 

Stepping  in  quickly  Kirk  seized  the  whip  from 
Jule's  hand  and  pushing  her  aside  seized  the  col- 
lar of  her  dog  and  throwing  him  back  suddenly 
struck  his  own  dog  sharply  on  the  nose  with  the 
butt  of  the  whip.  The  effect  was  immediate  and 
Kirk,  still  gripping  the  leather  collar  in  one  hand, 
turned  to  Jule  who  stood  close  behind  him. 

"Snap!"  she  cried  as  the  dog  growled  and 
struggled  to  get  free  from  the  grip  that  Kirk  held. 

"He  doesn't  seem  to  know  when  he's  had 
enough,"  Kirk  remarked,  handing  her  the  whip. 

She  moved  quickly  toward  the  dog's  head  and 
without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  Kirk's 
words,  raised  her  whip  and  spoke  again  sharply 
to  the  dog.  Dropping  close  to  the  snow  the  dog 
slunk  towards  her  whining. 

For  a  moment  Kirk  looked  at  the  girl,  radiant 
in  her  fresh  young  beauty,  her  eyes  full  of  danc- 
ing fires  as  she  spoke  to  the  dog.  Then  he  looked 
at  the  dog.  He  started  suddenly. 

"Where — where  did  that  dog  come  from?"  he 
asked  abruptly. 

Jule  Allen  straightened  and  looked  at  him 
sharply. 

"Have  you  not  been  long  enough  in  this  part  of 
the  world,  Kirk  Brander,"  she  said,  "to  know  bet- 
ter than  to  ask  questions  like  that!" 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  143 

But  Kirk  refused  to  retreat  before  her  refouke. 
The  fires  in  her  eyes  danced  angrily  but  he  scarce- 
ly noticed  them. 

"I  did  know  better,  Jule  Allen, "  he  replied  seri- 
ously and  he  returned  her  look  steadily  as»  he 
spoke.  "The  fact  is  I  asked  because  I  wanted  to 
know.  I'll  not  bother  you  about  it  again  but — 
I'm  going  to  find  out  just  the  same.  That  much, 
at  least,  is  permissible  even  in  this  part  of  the 
world. " 

She  did  not  reply  and  he  watched  her  in  silence 
as  she  pushed  the  dog  into  place  before  the  tobog- 
gan and  with  one  knee  on  the  snow  set  about  mend- 
ing the  broken  trace  with  a  bit  of  string  she  drew 
from  her  pocket.  He  could  not  help  feeling  regret 
at  the  unfortunate  turn  their  meeting  had  taken. 
There  was  so  much  that  was  attractive  in  the  girl, 
so  much  beauty  in  face  and  figure,  so  much  music 
in  her  voice,  and  so  much  spirit  in  her  self-asser- 
tion that  he  forgot  for  the  moment  the  impulse 
that  had  moved  him  to  ask  a  forbidden  question. 

Without  speaking  he  knelt  beside  her  and  tak- 
ing the  broken  trace  from  her,  drew  his  knife  from 
his  pocket  and  proceeded  to  splice  the  broken  ends. 
She  did  not  offer  any  resistance  nor  did  she  speak 
a  word  of  protest.  She  acted,  rather,  as  if  she  was 
unaware  of  his  presence.  And  Kirk  worked  in 
silence,  allowing  his  eyes  to  move  frequently  along 
the  dog's  shaggy  sides  and  neck.  Twice  he  looked 
closely  at  the  dark  face  with  its  email,  deep-set 
eyes.  Once  when  the  girl  lowered  her  head  and 


144  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

turned  away  Kirk  ran  his  hand  quickly  over  the 
dog's  neck  and  turning  one  of  the  ears  back,  look- 
ed at  it  for  a  moment.  As  he  did  so  Jule  raised 
her  eyes  and  he  turned  again  quickly  to  the  broken 
trace. 

When  the  necessary  repairs  had  been  completed 
Kirk  got  up  and  stood  back  a  little  from  the  dog, 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  dog's  head  and  face. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  be  offensive,"  he  said,  "but 
I'm  going  to  be  perfectly  frank  with  you.  It  mil 
avoid  misunderstandings  in  the  future.  I  know 
your  dog — and  I  know  where  he  came  from.  I 
don't  know  just  how  you  got  him  but  I'm  going  to 
take  the  trouble  to  find  out,  because  it  really  means 
something  to  me." 

But  Jule  Allen  was  already  leading  her  dog 
across  the  clear  space  in  the  direction  of  a  narrow 
trail  that  led  among  the  trees  and  down  the  hill- 
side towards  the  lake. 

Suddenly  it  came  to  Kirk's  mind  to  put  his  sus- 
picions to  the  test.  He  raised  his  voice  quickly. 

"Darkie!   Darkie !"  he  called. 

The  dog  stopped  in  his  tracks  and  turned  his 
dark  face  towards  Kirk.  His  ears  were  pricked 
sharply  and  he  stood  as  if  awaiting  the  sound  of 
the  voice  again.  But  Kirk  did  not  speak. 

"Snap!"  cried  Jule  Allen,  and  the  dog  headed 
again  into  the  narrow  trail. 

Kirk  stood  and  watched  them  until  they  van- 
ished from  sight  among  the  trees.  And  as  he  stood 
alone  his  mind  wandered  back  to  the  morning  he 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  145 

had  found  poor  old  Wally  Lamonte  sitting  upright 
in  the  snow,  his  dogs  gone  and  his  face  eaten  away 
• — not  by  his  own  huskies,  he  knew  now,  but  by 
wolves. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AFTER  going  over  the  property  hurriedly 
Kirk  returned  to  John  Allen's  cabin  where 
Marion  Curtis  impatiently  awaited  his 
coming.  When  she  had  heard  a  brief  report  on 
what  he  had  seen  she  suggested  their  going  at 
once  to  The  Lucky  Strike  and  looking  over  the 
equipment.  He  got  his  dogs  into  their  harness  im- 
mediately and  after  a  hurried  lunch  served  at  the 
hands  of  Jule  Allen  herself  the  two  left  the  cabin 
and  arrived  at  The  Lucky  Strike  shortly  after  the 
noon  hour.  Only  three  miles  separated  the  two 
properties  and  for  the  greater  part  of  the  distance 
the  trail  followed  the  shore  of  a  lake  and  the 
crooked  course  of  a  narrow  creek.  For  the  re- 
mainder of  the  distance  it  ran  up  the  steep  hill 
that  lay  back  of  The  Micmac  and  then  along  the 
crest  to  a  point  directly  above  the  camp  where  it 
dropped  suddenly  down  towards  the  lake.  When 
they  had  gone  hurriedly  over  the  equipment  they 
took  the  trail  back  again,  going  more  slowly  this 
time  and,  with  their  task  in  mind,  carefully  estim- 
ating the  amount  of  work  that  would  be  necessary 
to  put  the  road  in  shape. 

They  were  both  utterly  weary  that  night  when 
they  entered  John  Allen 's  cabin  and  begged  a  sec- 

146 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  147 

ond  night's  hospitality  for  Marion.  But  with  all 
their  weariness  they  were  happy  in  the  conviction 
that,  although  they  could  not  expect  more  than  two 
weeks  more  before  the  warm  weather  should  make 
the  ice  on  the  lakes  and  rivers  unsafe  for  travel, 
they  believed  the  equipment  could  be  moved  and 
put  in  place  on  the  Micmac  before  the  break-up. 
They  sat  late  into  the  night  discussing  their  plans 
and  John  Allen  himself  entered  heartily  into  the 
conversation,  giving  them  the  benefit  of  his  experi- 
ence. And  yet,  for  all  the  freedom  with  which  he 
offered  suggestions,  there  was  something  re- 
strained, almost  disinterested  in  his  manner.  It 
was  quite  evident  that  he  looked  upon  them  much 
as  he  did  upon  Paxton.  To  him  they  were  all  out- 
siders, all  intruders.  As  for  Jule  Allen,  Kirk  was 
at  a  loss  to  know  how  he  should  interpret  her  at- 
titude. There  was  nothing  shy  in  her  manner  and 
no  unnatural  restraint.  There  was  nothing,  even, 
to  indicate  that  she  was  the  girl  whom  he  had  met 
that  morning  on  the  hillside.  She  preserved  an 
unruffled  calm  that  was  almost  haughtily  indif- 
ferent— but  behind  it  Kirk  felt  there  was  a  curbed 
passion  that  was  ready  to  break  loose,  awaiting 
only  the  occasion.  He  became  aware  suddenly 
that  it  was  going  to  be  hard  to  live  all  summer  here 
and  be  on  bad  terms  with  his  nearest  neighbor. 

The  next  morning  Marion  Curtis  left  with  Jule 
Allen  who  was  taking  her  out  as  far  as  Dags' 
cabin.  They  would  reach  there  by  noon  and  Dags 
would  take  Marion  on  to  The  Pas,  allowing  Jule 


148  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

to  return  the  same  evening.  During  the  past  two 
days  Marion  and  Kirk  had  been  so  busy  with  the 
solution  of  the  practical  problems  that  attended 
their  new  venture  that  their  relations  had  been 
wholly  impersonal.  Not  once  had  either  of  them 
referred  to  the  episode  of  the  night  under  the  trees 
by  the  lake.  And  when  the  moment  came  for 
Marion  Curtis  to  leave  there  was  nothing  in  her 
manner,  except  in  the  silent  pressure  of  her  hand, 
that  conveyed  any  hint  whatever  that  she  remem- 
bered. But  in  the  moment  while  she  lingered,  her 
hand  clasped  firmly  in  his,  Kirk  called  himself 
suddenly  to  account.  He  glanced  quickly  at  Jule 
Allen  who  stood  waiting  some  distance  away,  then 
looked  steadily  into  Marion's  eyes. 

"We  have  had  a  very  pleasant  as  well  as  very 
busy  time  of  it,"  he  said  slowly.  "I  regret  just 
one  thing." 

"And  that?"  she  asked. 

"That  I  forgot  myself." 

Her  face  was  very  serious  for  a  moment.  *'I 
don't  want  you  to  regret  it,"  she  replied  and 
pressed  his  hand  firmly  again  before  she  turned 
away. 

Kirk  watched  them  until  they  had  passed  from 
sight.  Then  he  went  to  work. 

For  two  weeks  he  strove  practically  night  and 
day  to  accomplish  the  task  that  Marion  Curtis 
had  set.  Dags  had  returned  at  the  end  of  a  week 
with  a  dozen  men  and  a  couple  of  teams  of  horses 
to  assist  in  moving  the  equipment.  A  lucky  drop 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  149 

in  the  temperature  gave  them  a  few  days  more 
than  they  had  expected  and  ultimately  proved  to 
be  the  deciding  factor  in  their  undertaking. 

"Thank  God  for  those  three  cold  days,  Dagsie," 
Kirk  commented  when  the  work  was  completed. 
"We'd  never  have  done  it  if  the  break-up  had 
come  on  time. ' ' 

"Thank  God  if  you  like,"  Dags  muttered,  "and 
if  you  have  any  influence  there  get  an  option  on 
His  services  for  at  least  six  months.  You're  goin* 
to  need  Him  bad." 

And  Dags  spoke  more  truly  than  he  knew.  Pax- 
ton  was  content  to  allow  Kirk  to  go  ahead  without 
obstructing  him  in  any  way.  In  the  first  place  he 
had  very  little  confidence  in  Kirk's  ability  to  get 
the  materials  moved  and  ready  to  be  put  in  place 
before  the  winter  broke  up.  With  his  eye  on  the 
weather  he  cursed  the  three  days  that  gave  Kirk 
cause  for  rejoicing.  But  his  plans  were  founded 
upon  something  deeper  and  more  substantial  than 
the  accidents  of  weather.  Day  after  day  he  spent 
in  quiet  conference  with  his  banker  and  his  law- 
yer. Twice  he  made  hurried  trips  to  Winnipeg 
and  lunched  with  men  of  political  influence,  or 
called  his  clients  together  while  they  discussed 
the  most  effective  means  of  obstructing  Henry 
Tyne  's  efforts.  And  on  each  occasion  he  returned 
to  The  Pas  beaming  with  confidence.  Generally 
speaking,  things  were  going  very  well  for  Warren 
K.  Paxton. 

For  two  weeks  the  prospect  of  a  railway  being 


150  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

built  from  The  Pas  to  the  mines  had  occupied  his 
attention  almost  to  the  exclusion  of  everything 
else.  Taking  his  cue  from  conversations  he  had 
had  privately  with  railroad  officials  and  others, 
he  had  sketched  roughly  the  route  which  the  road 
would  probably  take.  Through  a  country  that  was 
-a  veritable  network  of  rivers  and  lakes  the  prob- 
lem of  building  a  railway  became  largely  one  of 
avoiding  bodies  of  water  too  large  to  cross.  A  few 
minutes'  study  of  the  map  that  hung  in  Paxton's 
office  made  it  clear  that  whatever  the  exact  route 
of  the  new  railway  would  be,  at  one  point,  at  least, 
there  would  be  no  choice  of  route.  Between  the 
Burntwood  system  of  waterways  sloping  towards 
the  north  and  the  Saskatchewan  system  draining 
towards  the  south  there  lay,  at  one  point,  only  a 
narrow  strip  of  dry  ground,  scarcely  more  than  a 
mile  in  width.  To  the  north  of  the  portage  lay 
Cranberry  Lake  and  to  the  south  Lake  Athapa- 
puskow ;  the  railway  would  have  to  follow  the  nar- 
row height  of  land  between  them.  Whether  that 
narrow  gateway  to  the  mines  should  be  opened  or 
closed  depended  now  upon  Paxton's  wishes  in  the 
matter.  The  ground  was  his  and  he  would  have 
to  be  sought  out  and  bargained  with  before  any 
right-of-way  privileges  were  granted.  The  deeds 
showing  the  transfer  of  the  claims  covering  the 
height  of  land  were  even  now  secure  in  the  tight 
little  safe  that  occupied  one  corner  of  his  office. 
All  he  had  to  do  was  wait.  In  fact  Paxton  believed 
in  waiting  for  anything  he  wanted.  He  prided 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  151 

himself  on  having  a  little  more  endurance  than 
most  men;  his  experience  in  the  business  world 
had  gone  far  towards  justifying  the  pride  he  felt. 

Paxton  sat  with  his  feet  perched  on  one  corner 
of  his  desk  and  looked  from  his  office  window. 
Fully  a  month  had  passed  since  the  visit  of  Marion 
Curtis  and  now,  with  the  spring  opening  and  the 
summer  before  him,  he  was  calculating  to  himself 
just  how  long  it  would  take  for  old  Henry  Tyne 
to  reach  the  end  of  his  resources  and  accept  de- 
feat. He  knew  what  the  extent  of  those  resources 
was.  He  had  worked  out  to  his  own  satisfaction 
just  how  far  they  would  go.  He  was  satisfied  that 
long  before  the  end  of  September,  the  date  that 
marked  the  expiration  of  Tyne's  option  on  the 
Micmac,  more  capital  would  be  needed  or  the  de- 
velopment of  the  property  would  have  to  cease. 
And  he  knew,  moreover,  that  Tyne's  only  hope  of 
raising  more  capital  lay  in  the  development  of  the 
property  itself  during  the  next  three  months.  If 
the  tests  they  were  to  make  showed  rich  bodies  of 
ore,  Tyne  would  have  little  difficulty.  If  the  mine 
yielded  ore  of  only  a  fair  grade,  the  Micmac  would 
have  another  failure  to  its  credit.  Everything, 
therefore,  depended  upon  the  energy  with  which 
Henry  Tyne  pushed  his  development  work. 

As  for  John  Allen,  he  was  beaten  before  he 
started.  The  only  thing  Paxton  feared  was  how 
the  old  fellow  would  dispose  of  the  White  Squaw 
after  all  his  money  had  been  spent.  But  that 
mattered  very  little,  after  all,  so  long  as  Henry 


152  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Tyne  was  forced  to  quit  the  game.  John  Allen, 
spiteful  old  fool  though  he  was,  had  more  sense 
than  to  attempt  doing  business  with  Henry  Tyne 
until  the  latter  had  proven  his  ability  to  go  ahead 
with  the  task  he  had  undertaken. 

The  community,  generally  speaking,  did  not  like 
Henry  Tyne.  Paxton  had  seen  to  that.  Even 
their  liking  for  Kirk  Brander  had  paled  somewhat 
because  of  his  friendship  for  the  fur-thief,  Tuck 
Koberts.  And  Paxton  had  lost  no  opportunity  to 
play  upon  the  sentiment.  Just  now,  as  he  sat  look- 
ing from  his  window,  he  was  awaiting  the  final 
word  on  Tuck's  case.  Tuck  had  asked  for  a  speedy 
trial  and  the  judge  had  taken  an  extra  day  to  con- 
sider the  evidence.  Paxton  had  capitalized  Tuck 's 
misfortune  and  earnestly  prayed  for  a  conviction. 
His  only  fear  was  that  Kirk  Brander  might  come 
upon  the  scene  before  the  case  was  settled  and  in- 
troduce an  element  of  delay.  But  the  few  days 
of  cold  weather  that  had  meant  much  to  Kirk 
in  his  work  at  the  mines  had  also  delayed  his 
coming  to  The  Pas. 

From  where  Paxton  sat  he  could  see  the  gleam 
of  the  water  in  the  flats  where  the  Saskatchewan 
had  overflowed.  The  river  was  clear  of  ice  except 
along  its  shores  where  the  great  blocks  had  been 
pushed  up  into  white,  glistening  heaps  that  lay 
melting  in  the  warm  sun.  Paxton  knew  that  Kirk 
Brander  would  be  on  the  ground  in  a  couple  of 
days  at  most. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  153 

"Let  him  come — we're  all  set,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. 

And  yet  he  knew  what  Kirk's  coming  would 
mean,  and  he  could  not  help  feeling  the  suspense  a 
little. 

The  outside  door  opened  and  he  swung  round 
in  his  chair  to  meet  Phil  Roche  who  was  entering 
with  Joe  Bedard.  The  expression  on  Phil's  face 
caused  Paxton  to  sit  up  suddenly  and  take  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth. 

"Any  news?"  he  asked  abruptly. 

"It's  all  over,"  Roche  announced  coldly. 
"They  let  him  off." 

"Hell!"  Paxton  exploded.    "Let  him  off!" 

"Yep." 

Roche  nodded  his  head  slowly  and  began  to  roll 
a  cigarette. 

"On  that  evidence?"  Paxton  mused. 

"The  girl  did  it.  She's  some  little  witness,  I'll 
say, ' '  Roche  continued,  half  to  himself.  "  If  I  ever 
get  in  wrong  with  Canadian  law,  God  send  me 
along  a  girl  that  '11  love  me  enough  to  look  a  judge 
in  the  eye  and  produce  an  alibi  that  would  do 
credit  to  Judas  Iscariot." 

For  a  long  time  Paxton  sat  without  speaking. 
Then  he  got  up  and  walked  to  the  other  side  of  the 
office. 

"Were  there  many  out  to  hear  the  decision?" 
he  asked. 

"The  room  was  full." 

"How'd  they  take  it?" 


154  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Roche  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Just  took  it — 
that 's  all.  They  know  Tuck  Roberts  stole  the  furs. 
The  judge  knows  it,  if  he  'd  just  come  down  to  it. '  ' 

"What  do  you  mean — the  judge  knows  it?" 
Paxton  asked,  and  he  stopped  on  his  way  to  the 
window  to  look  at  Roche. 

"He  said  he  couldn't  convict  the  prisoner  on  the 
evidence  but  everybody  who  heard  it  knows  what 
he  thinks  about  it  himself." 

"Let's  go  up  and  see  Cavanagh,"  Paxton  said 
suddenly  taking  his  coat  and  leading  the  way  to 
the  door. 

Five  minutes  later  they  were  in  Cavanagh  *s 
office.  Paxton  and  Roche  took  chairs  facing  Ca- 
vanagh while  Joe  Bedard  who  had  come  along  at 
Roche 's  suggestion  stood  by  the  door,  cap  in  hand, 
looking  a  little  uncomfortable  and  out  of  place  in 
the  constable's  office. 

Paxton  threw  his  coat  open  brusquely  and  laid 
his  hand  heavily  on  the  desk  in  front  of  Cavanagh. 

"What's  wrong  with  law  and  authority  in  this 
place,  Cavanagh?"  he  asked  bluntly. 

Cavanagh 's  face  bore  an  expression  of  mingled 
disappointment  and  humor. 

"I'd  like  to  have  someone  answer  the  same 
question  for  me,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"I  thought  you  had  the  evidence  to  convict  this 
man,"  Paxton  continued. 

Cavanagh  turned  in  his  chair  and  looked  from 
his  window. 

"I  can't  raider  stand  why  you  seem  to  be  so 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  155 

anxious  to  have  Tuck  Boberts  sent  down/'  lie 
remarked  drily. 

Paxton  drew  an  impatient  breath. 

"Tuck  Boberts  is  no  concern  of  mine,"  he  snap- 
ped. "It  would  be  all  the  the  same  to  me  whether 
it  was  Tuck  Boberts  or  Phil  Boche.  But  the  se- 
curity of  property  and  the  rights  of  citizens  in  this 
community  is  my  concern.  And  when  a  thief  is  at 
large  in  the  community  it  is  my  concern." 

"It's  always  better  to  prove  that  a  man  is  a 
thief  before  you  call  him  one,"  Cavanagh  re- 
marked casually. 

"Didn't  you  have  the  proof?" 

"I  thought  so — never  was  more  sure  of  it  in  my 
life,  in  fact." 

"What's  the  matter,  then?" 

Cavanagh  smiled.  "The  judge  didn't  think  so." 

"Does  he  think  Boberts  is  innocent?" 

Cavanagh  turned  to  Paxton  and  looked  at  him 
for  a  moment  without  speaking. 

"It  would  be  easy  to  speak  unwisely,  Paxton," 
he  said,  carefully  measuring  his  words  as  he  spoke. 
"I  am  going  to  take  you  a  little  into  my  confidence 
knowing  you  won't  make  any  wrong  use  of  what 
I  tell  you.  Boberts  stole  those  furs — everybody 
knows  it.  You  can't  convict  a  man  because  you 
think  he's  guilty.  The  evidence  must  show  it.  I 
thought  the  evidence  was  sound  enough — and  it 
was  until  Buth  Mackay  took  a  hand  in  it." 

"There's  something  radically  wrong  with  the 

system  or  a  girl's  evidence  wouldn't  tnrn  a  man 
(ii) 


156  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

loose  on  the  country  when  everyone  knows  he's  a 

thief." 

Cavanagh  didn't  show  any  resentment  at  Pax- 
ton's  remark.  He  turned  about  again  in  his  chair 
and  looked  out  the  window. 

"The  system  is  about  as  good  as  we  can  make 
it,  Paxton,"  he  remarked  quietly.  "We're  just 
human  beings,  after  -all.  If  you  think  someone 
else  could  do  the  work  here  better  than  I  am  doing 
it,  there  is  a  way  to  go  about  getting  a  change — 
and  I  won't  block  you.  But  while  I 'm  in  this  office 
I'm  going  to  take  my  orders  from  higher  up." 

Phil  Roche  had  sat  without  speaking  through- 
out the  conversation  between  Paxton  and  Cav- 
anagh. Once  or  twice  he  dropped  a  quiet  word  to 
Joe  Bedard  who  stood  satisfying  a  morbid  curi- 
osity by  examining  a  group  of  small  posters  on  the 
wall.  The  fact  of  so  many  criminals  being  at  large 
in  spite  of  the  rewards  which  were  offered  for 
their  capture  held  a  new  fascination  for  Joe  and 
he  laboriously  spelled  out  what  he  could  of  the 
descriptive  details  and  scrutinized  the  portraits 
as  closely  as  if  he  had  been  looking  for  a  lost 
brother. 

Paxton  got  up  from  his  chair,  drew  his  coat 
about  him  and  turned  towards  the  door. 

"No  one  wants  you  out,  Cavanagh,"  he  said  in 
an  effort  to  end  the  conversation  pleasantly.  "But 
it  does  get  under  a  man's  hide  a  bit  when  the 
authorities  slip  a  cog.  It  gives  private  citizens 
just  that  much  more  to  lie  awake  over — and  God 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  157 

knows  we  have  enough  to  think  about  these  days." 

Cavanagh  remained  seated.  Phil  Roche  stepped 
for  a  moment  to  the  side  of  Joe  Bedard,  where  the 
two  began  talking  quietly  in  undertones  while 
Paxton  and  Cavanagh  were  bringing  their  dis- 
cussion to  a  close. 

"As  for  that,"  Cavanagh  was  saying,  "it  might 
be  better  not  only  for  Tuck  Roberts  but  for  some 
of  his  friends  as  well  if  he  had  been  sent  down  for 
ten  years.  He 's  going  to  be  under  suspicion  from 
this  time  on  and  we're  going  to  watch  him." 

"And  his  friends!"  Paxton  suggested. 

""Well,  when  a  man  is  under  suspicion  his 
friends  naturally  come  in  for  their  share  of  it." 

Neither  of  them  saw  Joe  Bedard  put  his  finger 
on  one  of  the  pictures  on  the  wall  and  smile  darkly 
as  he  drew  Phil  Roche's  attention  to  it.  They 
were  too  intent  upon  their  own  conversation  to 
notice  the  question  in  Phil's  face  as  he  looked 
closely  at  the  picture  and  then  at  Joe's  face. 

Joe  Bedard  did  not  turn  his  eyes  to  Phil.  His 
face  wore  still  the  dark  slow  smile  and  he  grunted 
rather  than  spoke  the  words  that  were  the  answer 
to  Phil  Roche's  questioning  look — "That's  Tuck." 

Phil  stepped  back  and  then  looked  more  closely 
at  the  picture.  Only  after  he  had  studied  it  for  a 
full  minute  did  the  features  begin  to  take  on  some- 
thing familiar.  He  was  on  the  point  of  speaking 
to  Cavanagh  hut  his  own  uncertainty  made  him 
hesitate.  The  next  moment  Paxton  was  bidding 


158  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Cavanagh  good-bye  and  the  three  left  the  office 
and  went  into  the  street. 

" We've  got  these  fellows  where  we  want  them, 
Phil,"  Paxton  said  as  they  walked  down  the  street 
together.  "I'm  glad  Roberts  wasn't  sent  down. 
He'll  be  a  good  man  to  keep  ronnd.  Brander'll 
wish  he  could  send  Roberts  down  himself  to  get 
Tiim  out  of  the  way.  They're  discredited  here  right 
now  and — we'll  keep  'em  there!" 

He  stmck  his  fist  into  his  hand  to  emphasize  his 
point.  Roche's  mind  was  so  busy  with  a  new  in- 
terest, however,  that  he  scarcely  heard  Paxton 's 
-words.  He  was  impatient  to  be  alone  with  Joe 
Bedard  for  a  few  moments  in  order  to  question  the 
half-breed  and  search  his  convictions. 

Ten  minutes  later  they  left  Paxton  and  Roche 
came  at  once  to  the  question  that  was  in  his  mind. 

"Do  you  think  that's  Tuck's  picture,  Joe?"  he 
asked. 

Joe  Bedard  merely  smiled  in  reply. 

Roche  grew  suddenly  impatient  with  the  half- 
breed's  non-communicative  manner.  "Hell,  man, 
what  makes  you  think  so  ?  "  he  snapped. 

"Huh!"  Joe  grunted,  the  smile  never  leaving 
his  face.  "I  know." 

For  a  minute  or  so  Roche  did  not  speak.  Then 
he  laid  a  hand  on  Joe  Bedard 's  arm. 

"Keep  this  dark,  Joe,"  he  warned. 

"Huh!"  the  half-breed  grunted,  smiling  stilL 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

LATE  in  the  evening  of  the  third  day  follow- 
ing Paxton's  conversation  with  Cavanagh, 
Kirk  Brander  arrived  in  his  canoe  with  old 
man  Bags.  For  Paxton  the  three  days  had  been 
filled  with  effort  that  gave  promise  of  glorious 
success.  Already  Tuck  Eoberts  was  practically 
outlawed  in  the  community  and  public  opinion 
with  regard  to  Kirk  Brander  was  simply  awaiting 
his  coming  and  some  announcement  of  his  position 
before  it  should  crystallize  either  in  his  favor  or 
against  him.  In  fact  Kirk's  fate  at  the  hands  of 
the  community  gossips  had  practically  been  set- 
tled already — and  for  two  reasons.  In  the  first 
place  it  was  generally  conceded  that  he  would 
stand  by  Tuck  Eoberts.  He  was  that  kind  of  a 
man.  In  addition  to  that  fact,  Paxton  had  made 
use  of  every  moment  of  those  three  days  to  dis- 
credit not  only  Kirk  Brander  himself,  the  bosom 
friend  of  a  fur-thief,  but  Henry  Tyne  and  Marion 
Curtis  who  were  unknown  except  for  their  re- 
ported connection  with  the  new  development  of  the 
Micmac.  Two  companies  having  already  failed  in 
their  attempts  to  make  the  big  mine  pay,  there  was 
a  general  feeling  that  another  such  failure  would 
have  a  disastrous  effect  upon  the  whole  district. 

159 


160  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

'And  Paxton  spared  no  pains  to  make  it  clear  that 
a  third  failure  was  precisely  what  they  might  all 
look  forward  to  if  Henry  Tyne  should  go  on  with 
the  work. 

It  was,  consequently,  a  very  different  town  that 
Kirk  Brander  came  back  to  after  his  absence  of 
about  a  month.  He  sensed  the  difference  first 
when,  within  fifteen  minutes  after  his  arrival  with 
Dags,  he  entered  Wu  Long's  place  in  search  of 
something  to  eat.  It  was  already  quite  dark  and 
he  had  come  down  the  street  without  having  been 
noticed  by  anyone.  "When  he  threw  open  the  door 
of  the  Northern  Lights  and  stepped  into  the  room 
he  saw  several  of  his  friends  and  called  out  a 
general  greeting. 

"Howdy!"  he  sang  out  as  he  stood  and  glanced 
round  the  room. 

'A  half  dozen  games  of  cards  were  in  progress 
and  three  or  four  small  groups  stood  about  or 
lounged  round  on  chairs  tilted  back  against  the 
wall.  There  was  a  general  stir  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice  and  he  shook  hands  with  two  or  three  who 
etood  nearest  the  door.  Wu  Long  was  there  with 
his  smile  and  hobbled  across  to  exchange  greet- 
ings with  Kirk,  after  which  he  hurried  away  to  fill 
the  order  Kirk  gave  him  for  himself  and  Dags. 

It  was  not  until  they  had  got  well  under  way 
with  their  meal  that  Kirk  found  time  to  inquire 
concerning  Tuck  Koberts.  He  was  about  to  ask 
the  news  of  some  who  were  sitting  at  a  game  of 
cards  round  the  table  immediately  'behind  him, 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  161 

font  even  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  framing  the 
question  a  strange  feeling  came  over  him.  He 
realized  in  a  vague,  indefinite  way  that  these  men 
whom  he  had  counted  among  his  friends  were  dif- 
ferent from  the  friends  of  a  month  or  so  before. 
They  had  done  nothing,  had  said  nothing  to  make 
him  uncomfortable  and  yet — he  was  uncomfort- 
able just  the  same.  There  had  been  a  certain  re- 
straint in  their  manner,  they  showed  it  even  now 
in  the  apparent  lack  of  enthusiasm  for  the  games 
they  were  playing.  And  Kirk,  with  his  question  in 
mind,  wondered  if  by  any  possible  chance  Tuck 
Roberts  had  been  sent  down  and  they  were  keep- 
ing the  news  from  him,  knowing  how  it  would 
hurt.  The  thought  disturbed  him  deeply,  chilled 
him  almost,  for  the  thought  of  Tuck's  being 
actually  guilty  in  spite  of  what  he  had  said,  not 
only  to  himself  but  to  Ruth  Mackay,  was  far  more 
than  he  had  counted  on. 

In  the  moment  while  he  hesitated  the  door  open- 
ed and  Warren  Paxton  entered.  He  stepped 
briskly  through  the  room  looking  apparently  for 
a  table.  When  his  eyes  encountered  those  of  Kirk 
Brander  his  thin  veneer  of  smile  spread  over  his 
face  and  he  came  forward  to  the  place  opposite 
Kirk  and  Dags.  It  was  practically  the  only 
vacant  place  in  the  room  and  Paxton  sat 
down  with  an  air  of  'accepting  the  inevitable  that 
showed  through  the  smile  in  spite  of  himself. 

Though  he  did  not  offer  to  shake  hands  with 
either  Kirk  or  Dags  he  was  evidently  determined 


162  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

to  make  their  meeting  as  pleasant  as  possible  at 
any  rate. 

"Back  again,  eh?"  he  said  in  his  best  manner 
as  he  drew  his  chair  close.  "How's  the  big  work 
going?" 

In  Kirk's  heart  there  was  no  real  resentment 
towards  Paxton.  He  regarded  him  simply  as  an 
antagonist  in  a  fair  fight  where  victory  wonld  go 
to  the  man  who  planned  the  more  wisely,  worked 
the  harder,  and  proved  himself  the  more  resource- 
ful. That  Paxton  had  spoken  unpleasantly  to  him 
on  a  couple  of  occasions  did  not  disturb  him  in  the 
least.  Loud  words  and  warnings  of  the  kind  that 
Paxton  had  used  in  talking  to  Kirk  belonged,  after 
all,  to  certain  men's  methods  of  doing  business. 
Above  all  he  harbored  no  grudge.  And  in  the  end, 
if  Paxton  succeeded  in  driving  them  from  the  field, 
Kirk  Brander  would  be  the  first  to  congratulate 
him.  He  met  Paxton 's  questions  frankly,  there- 
fore, and  his  voice  was  pleasant  as  he  spoke. 

"Going  fine,"  he  replied  with  enthusiasm.  "In 
six  months  it's  going  to  be  the  most  talked-of  mine 
in  Canada.  In  a  year  and  a  half  well  have  a  rail- 
road and  a  smelter.  In  two  years  well  have  a 
town  with  electric  lights  and  movies  and  five 
thousand  people." 

Paxton 's  smile  widened  as  Kirk  spoke.  "You 
sure  are  some  dreamer,  Brander, ' '  he  replied.  ' '  I 
could  almost  feel  sorry  for  you  if  my  time  wasn't 
spent  trying  to  break  you." 

Kirk  laughed  aloud. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  163 

"Keep  talking  like  that,"  Kirk  said,  "I  like  it. 
So  long  as  we  can  get  it  out  of  our  systems  like 
this  there  won 't  be  any  hard  feelings.  By  the  way, 
what's  the  latest  word  about  Tuck?" 

The  question  hit  Paxton  rather  suddenly.  The 
smile  vanished  from  his  face  'and  his  manner  be- 
came at  once  more  cautious  and  deliberate. 

"You  haven't  heard!"  he  asked. 

"  Just  got  in  about  fifteen  minutes  ago." 

"They  let  him  off." 

Kirk  put  down  his  knife  and  fork  and  seized 
Dags  by  the  shoulders  so  violently  that  the  latter 
almost  choked  on  something  he  was  in  the  act  of 
swallowing. 

"Dagsie,  Tuck's  off!"  he  almost  shouted. 

"Bo  that  again,"  Dags  remarked  when  he  had 
recovered  'his  voice,  "and  I'll  have  him  pinched 
and  sent  down." 

"You  didn't  expect  him  to  be  convicted!"  Pax- 
ton  asked  with  a  sly  upward  look  across  the  table 
at  Kirk. 

"I  knew  he  didn't  take  that  fur — he's  not  that 
kind  of  a  man,"  Kirk  replied  with  directness. 
"But  you  never  can  tell  what  a  lawyer  will  prove 
or  what  a  judge  will  think." 

"And  you  never  can  tell  what  others  will  think, 
either,"  Paxton  remarked  very  casually. 

Kirk  gave  no  heed  to  Paxton 's  words.  He  was 
busy  with  his  own  thoughts.  "I'll  have  to  find 
Tuck  and  give  him  my  blessing,"  he  observed  as 
if  he  were  talking  to  himself. 


164  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"He'll  likely  drop  in  here  before  we're 
through,"  Dags  suggested,  a  little  unwilling  that 
his  first  hour  in  town  should  be  ruffled  by  any  un- 
necessary excitement. 

"He  may,"  Paxton  commented,  "but  the  fact 
is  he  hasn't  been  round  much  since  the  first  day 
he  came  out." 

"Not  even  for  a  celebration?"  Kirk  enquired. 

' '-Celebration  ?  There  wasn 't  any.  A  man  can't 
hold  a  celebration  by  himself. ' ' 

Kirk  looked  up  quickly.  Paxton 's  face  was 
lowered,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  food  before  him. 

"There's  something  not  just  right  about  this, 
Paxton,"  Kirk  said  with  a  directness  that  caused 
Dags  to  turn  and  look  at  him  and  then  nudge  him 
with  his  knee. 

"Don't  nudge  me,  Dagsie,"  Kirk  commanded 
abruptly.  "  I  'm  not  seeking  advice  now.  I  'm  try- 
ing to  get  clear  on  some  things  that  are  beginning 
to  worry  me  some. ' ' 

He  turned  again  to  Paxton. 

"You  said  Tuck  Eoberts  was  let  ©ff,  didn't 
you!" 

"Yes." 

"The  judge  let  him  off— clear?" 

' '  Sure — found  him  not  guilty. ' ' 

Kirk  thought  a  moment  with  his  eyes  still  on 
Paxton. 

"Then  what's  wrong?  Why  isn't  he  round  the 
same  as  always?  Why  can't  he  find  someone  to 
celebrate  ?  What 's  wrong  ? ' ' 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  165 

Kirk's  voice  had  risen  slightly  as  he  spoke  and 
a  number  of  those  who  were  near  him  turned  their 
attention  to  the  conversation  between  him  and 
Paxton. 

"What's  wrong?"  Kirk  repeated. 

"Ask  them!"  Paxton  replied,  waving  his  hand 
towards  the  men. 

"I'm  asking  you." 

Paxton 's  anger  got  the  better  of  him.  "Yon 
can't  badger  me,  young  fellow,"  he  said,  sitting 
up  and  looking  across  the  table  at  Kirk.  "Every- 
body in  this  town,  including  Tuck  Roberts  him- 
self, knows  who  took  those  furs  and  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  his  little  half-breed  wench  he  'd  be  doing 
time  right  now." 

Kirk  battled  against  the  impulses  that  were  ris- 
ing within  him.  He  got  up  from  his  chair  and 
stooping  above  Paxton  with  his  hands  on  the  table, 
spoke  in  a  voice  that  forced  itself  from  between 
clenched  teeth. 

"Paxton,  you  ought  to  know  better  than  to  take 
refuge  behind  your  years.  If  you  were  fifteen 
years  younger  I'd  make  you  eat  those  words  be- 
fore you  left  this  room.  Get  up ! " 

Paxton  did  not  move.  With  a  sudden  sweep  of 
his  hand  Kirk  threw  the  table  back  against  the 
wall  and  bent  above  Paxton  gripping  him  by  the 
collar  of  his  coat. 

1 '  Get  up,  damn  you ! "  he  said  and  pulled  Paxton 
to  his  feet. 


166  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"Take  your  hands  of  me  or  I'll  have  yon  ar- 
rested/ '  Paxton  roared. 

Kirk  gave  no  heed  to  the  warning,  however. 
Pushing  Paxton  before  him,  he  made  for  the  door 
and  opening  it  with  one  hand,  shoved  him  ont  into 
the  street.  Kirk  stood  a  moment  in  the  doorway 
listening  to  Paxton 's  muttered  curses.  Someone 
came  out  with  the  latter 's  hat  and  coat,  and  Kirk, 
turning  back,  closed  the  door  behind  him  and 
faced  the  men  in  the  room. 

"If  anyone  has  anything  to  say  about  this,"  he 
said,  and  his  voice  was  steady  as  he  spoke,  "get 
it  off  your  chest  now.  Tuck  Roberts  is  my  friend 
so  is  Ruth  Mackay.  Now,  then ! ' ' 

He  waited  a  moment  but  no  one  spoke. 

"Your  coffee's  gettin*  cold,  Kirk,"  Dags  an- 
nounced flatly  from  his  place  at  the  table  which 
he  had  restored  to  its  position  during  the  excite- 
ment. 

The  door  opened  behind  Kirk  suddenly  and 
Tuck  Roberts  entered.  Kirk  glanced  round,  then 
leaped  to  his  feet. 

"Tuck,  you  old  siwash!"  Kirk  cried  and  threw 
his  arms  about  him. 

And  gradually,  while  the  two  sat  down  at  the 
table  and  talked  over  the  events  of  the  past  three 
or  four  weeks,  the  men  in  the  room  laid  down  their 
cards,  got  up  from  the  tables  and  went  out. 

During  the  days  that  immediately  followed, 
Kirk  had  ample  opportunity  to  observe  Paxton 's 
methods  at  first  hand.  The  fact  that  on  the  day, 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  167 

after  his  altercation  with  Paxton  he  was  called 
before  the  local  magistrate  and  made  to  pay  a  fine 
for  assaulting  him  only  added  to  the  humor  of  the 
situation  as  Kirk  saw  it.  There  was  something 
ludicrous  about  a  man  using  a  police  magistrate  to 
fight  his  Battles  for  him  in  a  country  where  magis- 
trates at  best  seemed  out  of  place.  He  paid  his 
fine,  accordingly,  and  proceeded  forthwith  to 
make  a  joke  of  it.  Paxton,  on  the  other  hand,  in- 
sisted on  taking  the  matter  quite  seriously  and 
turning  it  to  account  in  his  efforts  to  discredit 
Kirk  and  go  as  far  as  possible  towards  outlawing 
him  in  the  community. 

It  was  not  long  before  Kirk  realized  precisely 
what  his  position  was.  He  suffered  no  ostracism 
in  a  personal  way;  he  went  everywhere  and  was 
received  with  the  same  heartiness  as  ever.  But 
when  he  opened  a  small  office  and  set  about  the 
main  purpose  of  his  visit  to  The  Pas — that  of  hir- 
ing a  gang  of  men  to  take  with  him  to  the  mine  on 
the  first  regular  trip  of  the  boat  to  Sturgeon  Land- 
ing— he  found  everywhere  a  lack  of  confidence 
that  was  maddening.  For  five  years  his  word  had 
been  as  good  as  his  oath  to  these  men.  It  was  a 
new  and  very  disturbing  experience  to  find  them 
ready  to  question  him  closely  on  every  statement 
he  made.  In  the  end  the  majority  of  them  an- 
nounced simply  that  they  had  decided  to  join 
Paxton  *s  gang. 

After  three  days  of  disappointment  and  partial 
failure,  Kirk  saw  that  other  tactics  would  have  to 


168  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

be  employed  if  he  was  to  have  his  gang  ready  and 
his  full  equipment  together  in  time  for  the  first 
boat.  He  called  Dags  and  Tuck  Koberts  and  to- 
gether they  went  over  the  situation.  To  Tuck  he 
assigned  the  task  of  letting  the  contract  for  feed- 
ing the  men  and  arranging  all  details  connected 
with  it.  Dags'  practical  experience  in  camp  life 
and  his  good  judgment  prompted  Kirk  to  make 
him  responsible  for  getting  the  camp  equipment 
together  and  ready  for  shipping  by  boat  and,  be- 
yond Sturgeon  Landing,  by  freight  canoe.  Kirk 
continued  to  struggle  with  the  problem  of  getting 
competent  men  to  assist  in  the  work  of  sinking  the 
shafts.  Henry  Tyne  had  let  the  contract  for  this 
part  of  the  work  and  the  foreman  with  a  dozen 
men  he  had  brought  with  him  from  Winnipeg 
were  already  at  The  Pas.  awaiting  the  time  for 
their  departure  for  the  mines.  At  least  twenty 
additional  men  would  be  required  to  get  the  work 
properly  under  way  and  these  had  to  be  found  in 
The  Pas  or  brought  in  from  the  outside. 

In  spite  of  Paxton's  opposition,  and  in  spite  of 
hours  of  disappointment,  Kirk's  good  nature  and 
the  genuine  esteem  in  which  he  was  held  in  the 
place  made  fair  progress  against  all  odds.  Within 
three  days  of  the  sailing  the  foreman  and  Kirk 
went  over  their  notes  together.  With  ordinary 
good  luck  they  would  be  ready  when  the  time  came 
for  the  boat  to  leave.  Kirk's  one  anxiety  was 
concerning  the  work  he  had  set  Dags  to  do.  Some- 
thing had  gone  wrong  there.  The  camp  equipment 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  169 

which  Dags  was  to  get  together  was  not  nearly 
ready  and  during  the  past  two  days  Kirk  had  seen 
very  little  of  the  old  fellow.  After  two  hours  of 
searching,  he  finally  found  Dags  drunk  as  a  lord 
in  a  room  in  the  hotel.  Kirk  went  immediately 
for  Tuck  and  returning  a  few  minutes  later  got 
Dags  out  of  the  room  and  finally  into  Kirk's  small 
office.  For  a  half  hour  they  questioned  Dags  with 
regard  to  where  he  had  got  his  whiskey  but  the 
old  man  was  too  far  gone  to  give  any  information 
that  would  either  confirm  Kirk's  suspicions  or 
allay  them.  Both  Tuck  and  Kirk,  however,  were 
satisfied  that  Dags'  condition  was  Paxton's  work. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  relieve  Dags  of  his 
task  and  divide  his  work  between  them. 

When  morning  dawned  on  the  day  the  boat  was 
to  sail  Kirk  and  Tuck  were  in  high  spirits.  Practi- 
cally the  last  detail  in  their  preparations  had  been 
attended  to  and  little  was  left  to  be  done  except 
getting  the  men  together  at  the  wharf  in  time  to 
take  the  boat. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  just  three 
hours  before  the  boat  was  to  leave  the  dock, 
Cavanagh  came  to  Kirk  where  he  was  superin- 
tending the  loading  of  his  equipment. 

"You'd  better  get  your  men  together, 
Brander,"  he  advised  quietly,  "and  get  them  on 
board." 

Kirk  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  There  was  some- 
thing significant  in  Cavanagh 's  manner.  The  con- 
stable read  the  question  in  Kirk's  eyes. 


170  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"There's  a  little  party  working  np  and  it  11  be 
harder  to  get  them  away  if  you  leave  it  any 
longer,"  he  explained. 

Calling  Tuck,  Kirk  explained  'briefly  what  Cav- 
anagh  had  said  and  the  two  left  the  docks  im- 
mediately for  up  town.  In  the  main  street  Kirk 
thought  he  sensed  a  feeling  of  rising  excitement, 
an  air  of  expectancy  and  suspense.  In  half  an 
hour,  with  Tuck's  help,  he  got  together  about  half 
his  men.  Inquiries  concerning  the  others  led 
finally  to  the  information  that  they  had  fore- 
gathered earlier  in  the  afternoon  in  a  shack  on  a 
side  street,  bent  upon  celebrating  their  last  day 
in  town.  Kirk  sent  his  men  down  to  the  boat  with 
Tuek  while  he  went  off  up  the  street,  determined 
upon  getting  near  enough  to  his  men  to  size  up  the 
problem  intelligently  and  decide  upon  some  course 
of  action. 

When  he  opened  the  door  of  the  shack  without 
ceremony  and  stepped  inside,  his  unexpected  ap- 
pearance brought  a  momentary  silence  upon  the 
group.  Half  of  them  were  already  so  intoxicated 
that  they  seemed  scarcely  aware  of  his  presence. 
More  than  half  the  men  in  the  shack  were  from 
Paxton's  gang.  That  the  problem  was  of  Paxton's 
making  there  was  no  doubt  in  Kirk's  mind.  He 
controlled  his  first  impulse  which  was  to  tear  into 
the  crowd  single-handed  and  bring  the  celebration 
abruptly  to  a  close. 

Without  speaking  he  turned  and  went  out  of  the 
shack.  Someone  closed  the  door  behind  him  as  he 


THE  I/OBSTICK  TRAIL  171 

stepped  into  the  street.  Hurrying  to  the  dock  he 
got  Tuck  and  ordered  his  men  to  follow.  In  fifteen 
minutes  they  were  before  the  .shack  and  Kirk  put 
his  hand  to  the  latch  to  open  the  door.  This  time, 
however,  the  door  did  not  yield  and  knocking  loud- 
ly he  called  for  admittance.  The  noise  within  died 
down  somewhat  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  "but  al- 
most immediately  the  din  increased.  Kirk  repeat- 
ed his  summons  and  waited  a  moment  to  give  them 
an  opportunity  to  reply.  When  no  response  came 
he  stepped  back  a  few  feet  and  leaping  forward 
threw  his  whole  weight  against  the  door.  The  door 
gave  slightly  before  him  and  one  of  the  hinges 
snapped.  A  second  time  he  flung  himself  against 
it.  The  door  flew  back  suddenly  and  dangled  from 
one  hinge  against  the  wall.  Kirk  stepped  into  the 
room  followed  by  Tuck  and  a  half  dozen  of  his 
men. 

"Get  out  of  here!"  he  commanded  seizing  one 
of  his  men  by  the  shoulder  and  turning  him  to- 
wards the  door. 

The  fellow  went  willingly  enough  and  was  taken 
charge  of  by  Kirk's  men  outside.  But  Kirk's  act 
was  taken  as  a  signal  for  resistance  on  the  part  of 
the  others,  especially  those  who  were  of  Paxton's 
gang.  At  a  cry  of  warning  from  Tuck  Eoberts, 
Kirk  turned  in  time  to  see  one  of  the  latter  raising 
an  empty  bottle.  It  was  no  mere  threat;  in  an- 
other instant  the  bottle  would  have  come  hurling 
towards  him.  But  Kirk  wa*  beside  hia  assailant 


172  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

with  a  leap  and  a  blow  that  sent  him  sprawling 
against  the  wall. 

At  once  the  fight  became  general  with  Kirk  and 
Tuck  and  their  half  dozen  men  in  the  thick  of  it.  A 
table  that  stood  against  the  wall  crashed  to  the 
floor  under  the  weight  of  two  lurching  assailants. 
But  in  little  more  than  five  minutes  it  was  all  over. 
Kirk's  men,  drunken  and  protesting  but  consider- 
ably sobered  as  a  result  of  the  melee,  were  all  out- 
side the  shack  and  were  being  hustled  off  to  the 
boat  by  the  men  whom  Kirk  had  brought  along 
with  him. 

Kirk  stood  a  moment  in  the  open  doorway  and 
looked  back  at  the  men  who  were  still  in  the  shack. 
There  was  no  move  on  the  part  of  any  of  them  to 
continue  the  struggle  and  Kirk  waited  long  enough 
to  give  his  men  a  chance  to  get  safely  out  of  the 
way.  Then  he  drew  the  rickety  door  into  place, 
fastened  it  as  well  as  he  could  from  the  outside 
and  hurried  away. 

"When  he  was  half  way  down  the  street  a  shout 
came  to  him  from  the  direction  of  the  docks. 
Sensing  more  trouble,  to  which  the  few  minutes 
in  the  shack  had  been  merely  a  curtain-raiser, 
Kirk  quickened  his  pace  to  a  run  until  he  rounded 
the  corner  of  the  street  leading  to  the  dock.  What 
he  saw  more  than  justified  his  fears.  Thirty  or 
forty  men  were  engaged  in  a  rough-and-tumble 
battle  close  to  the  dock  where  the  boat  was 
moored.  A  little  way  back  from  the  scene  of  the 
struggle  a  crowd  of  spectators  looked  on,  their 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  173 

numbers  "being  added  to  as  others  came  hurrying 
from  all  directions. 

For  a  moment  only  Kirk  stood  watching  the 
fight  from  a  distance.  He  conld  distinguish  some 
of  his  own  men  sufficiently  clearly  to  realize  that 
they  were  grappling  with  men  from  Paxton's  out- 
fit. It  was  a  gang  fight,  one  gang  fighting  to  keep 
the  other  from  boarding  the  boat  before  it  left  the 
dock.  The  captain  and  his  boat  hands  looked  on 
from  the  railing  of  the  upper  deck,  smoking  their 
pipes  and  evidently  enjoying  the  action  keenly. 
Kirk  looked  quickly  about  to  see  if  Cavanagh  or 
Keene  were  on  hand  but  they  were  nowhere  in 
evidence.  If  they  would  only  stay  in  the  back- 
ground until  the  affair  was  settled,  Kirk  thought, 
so  much  the  better. 

Someone  brushed  past  him  roughly  as  he  was 
about  to  start  for  the  scene  of  the  fight.  Old  Dags, 
sober  enough  now,  was  making  for  the  docks  as 
fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him. 

*  *  Come  on,  Kirk, ' '  he  shouted.  *  *  Let 's  give  'em 
hell!" 

Kirk  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  old  man's 
eagerness  and  followed  him  into  the  thick  of  the 
fight.  For  a  few  minutes  there  was  little  to  the 
struggle  except  indiscriminate  whacking  and 
punching  and  mauling,  in  which  feet  as  well  as 
hands  were  brought  freely  into  play.  Once  or 
twice  Kirk  caught  sight  of  Tuck  Roberts  who,  hat 
off  and  shirt  sleeves  in  ribbons,  was  plunging  in 
recklessly  and  apparently  enjoying  the  time  of  his 


174  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

young  life.  Dags  had  disappeared  from  sight  com- 
pletely. Bnt  Kirk  was  looking  for  someone  else. 
He  knew  that  somewhere  in  the  tumbling,  striking 
mass  Phil  Roche  was  probably  giving  a  willing 
hand  to  the  support  of  Paxton's  crew.  "When  he 
finally  caught  sight  of  him,  Roche  was  standing  on 
the  far  side  of  the  crowd  near  the  edge  of  the  dock, 
his  'back  to  the  river,  leisurely  smoking  a  cigarette 
and  assuming  the  role  of  a  mere  spectator.  Be- 
side him  was  "Warren  Paxton  himself,  smoking 
his  cigar  and  apparently  enjoying  the  action  as 
much  as  anyone  though  he  had  not  soiled  his 
clothes  by  taking  any  active  part  in  it. 

The  sight  of  the  two  standing  apart  from  the 
fight  that  they  were  undoubtedly  responsible  for 
maddened  Kirk  beyond  expression.  To  reach  them 
he  would  have  to  fight  his  way  through  the  mass. 
In  a  moment  he  had  plunged  in.  Right  and  left  he 
struck,  smashing  his  way  through  and  leaving  any 
who  attempted  to  bar  his  progress  stretched  on 
the  ground  before  he  turned  to  the  next.  The  re- 
sult of  his  entering  the  fight  was  noticeable  at 
once.  Everywhere  Ms  men  were  now  sweeping 
forward  towards  the  boat,  breaking  down  opposi- 
tion with  a  movement  that  quickly  gathered  speed 
and  in  another  minute  the  struggle  would  have 
been  over. 

But  catching  sight  of  Kirk  in  the  centre  of  the 
crowd  and  realizing  that  affairs  were  taking  an 
unfavorable  turn,  Roche  stepped  in,  seized  a 
couple  of  his  men  who  were  being  driven  back  to- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  175 

wards  the  dock,  threw  them  'back  into  the  fight 
and  then  plunged  towards  Kirk.  They  were  sev- 
eral yards  apart  and  every  foot  of  the  distance 
that  separated  them  would  have  to  Tbe  fought  over 
before  they  came  within  reach  of  each  other. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  that  Eoche  entered 
the  fight,  Dags,  dishevelled,  battered-looking  but 
still  fierce,  emerged  from  the  crowd  and  con- 
fronted Paxton.  A  few  words  passed  between 
them  while  Dags  waited  to  give  him  time  to  de- 
fend himself.  Paxton  looked  scornfully  a  moment 
at  the  old  fellow  but  when  Dags  stepped  suddenly 
towards  him,  his  expression  changed.  Kealizing 
that  he  was  going  to  be  forced  to  take  a  hand  in 
the  fight,  Paxton  stepped  back  quickly  and  seized 
a  heavy  stick  that  lay  on  the  dock  at  his  feet.  Dags 
was  upon  him  in  a  moment.  Though  Paxton  raised 
the  club  and  brought  it  down  again  as  quickly  and 
as  savagely  as  he  could,  Dags  was  too  quick  for 
him.  Dropping  the  stick  at  the  same  moment  that 
Dags,  having  crouched  suddenly  to  avoid  the  blow, 
seized  him  round  the  knees,  Paxton  began  pawing 
with  his  hands  in  a  futile  effort  to  get  a  hold  that 
would  give  him  at  least  a  fair  chance  of  defending 
himself.  Dags  lost  no  time,  however,  in  following 
up  his  advantage.  For  a  moment  or  two  he  tugged 
and  lifted  with  all  the  strength  at  his  command. 
Then  straightening  suddenly  he  struck  out  almost 
at  once  with  both  hands.  When  Paxton  stepped 
back  from  the  force  of  the  blows  he  tottered  on  the 
edge  of  the  dock.  But  Dags  was  in  a  fight — a 


176  THE  DOBSTICK  TRAIL 

fight,  moreover,  in  which  his  opponent  had.  at- 
tacked him  with  a  club  heavy  enough  to  have 
broken  his  head  had  the  blow  landed.  With  an 
oath  that  seemed  bitten  off  between  clenched  teeth 
he  sprang  once  more  at  Paxton.  Eealizing  the 
hopelessness  of  his  position  Paxton  turned  away 
slightly  to  avoid  the  blow,  collapsed  and  went  over 
the  edge  of  the  dock.  Dags  did  not  pause  long 
enough  even  to  hear  the  splash,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  sputtering  that  followed.  Leaving  Paxton  to 
his  own  resources  and  to  the  tender  mercies  of  a 
couple  of  spectators  who  came  up  to  offer  their 
aid,  he  turned  back  again  into  the  crowd. 

By  this  time  the  fight  had  passed  the  critical 
stage.  Everywhere  Paxton 's  men  had  been  beat- 
en back  and  half  of  Kirk's  men  were  already  on 
board.  In  the  space  that  had  thus  been  cleared 
of  men,  Kirk  and  Phil  Koche  were  pitted  against 
each  other  in  a  fight  that  was  more  furious  than 
anything  that  day.  A  ring  of  spectators  had 
closed  in  about  the  pair,  divided  in  their  sympa- 
thies, but  cheering  and  calling  incessantly  as  the 
two  men  threw  caution  to  the  winds  in  their  desire 
to  end  matters  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  flurry  on  the  outside  of 
the  crowd.  The  ranks  of  the  spectators  broke  and 
gave  way  before  Cavanagh  and  Keene  who  with  a 
half  dozen  mounties  and  deputies  pushed  their 
way  through  and  surrounding  the  two  men,  tore 
them  apart. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  177 

'  *  Quit  it,  boys ! ' '  Cavanagh  said  quietly.  ' '  Quit 
it,  now,  and  lay  off  this  stuff!" 

The  deputies  dispersed  the  crowd  and  in  less 
than  a  minute  Kirk  was  on  his  way  to  the  boat 
with  Cavanagh  while  Koche  was  being  led  away  by 
Keene  and  a  couple  of  his  men. 

"Come  on,  Kirk,"  Tuck  called  as  Kirk  stepped 
up  the  gang-plank.  * '  Some  little  party,  eh  ?  " 

Kirk  grinned.  "Oh,  boy!"  he  said,  and  the 
two  shook  hands. 

"Bui  did  you  see  Dags!"  asked  Tuck. 

"Dags?   No, what " 

For  answer  Tuck  laughed  and  turned  Kirk 
about  for  a  look  at  Paxton  where  he  was  walking 
away  dripping  from  the  plunge  he  had  taken  off 
the  dock.  While  they  laughed  together  at  Paxton 
Dags  came  to  them,  his  face  marked  and  his  eyes 
staring  from  excitement. 

"Dagsie,  old  boy,  put  it  there!"  Kirk  cried  giv- 
ing the  old  fellow  his  hand.  "But  believe  me, 
Dags,  youVe  started  something." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  boat  left  its  moorings 
[and  moved  leisurely  into  the  current  of  the  Sas- 
katchewan, 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

WITHIN  a  week  after  Kirk  and  his  men 
arrived  at  the  Micmac,  Paxton,  ac- 
companied by  Phil  Roche  and  about 
twenty  men  arrived  on  the  Ripple  Creek  pro- 
perty and  began  work.  Old  John  Mackay  had 
come  from  The  Pas  and  had  quietly  gone  to  live 
in  his  cabin  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  Kirk's 
camp  where  he  could  watch  the  work  going  on 
from  a  comfortable  distance  and  not  seem  in  any 
way  to  be  interfering.  For  the  old  prospector 
had  grown  very  anxious  of  late  over  the  future 
of  his  mine.  He  had  seen  two  attempts  to  de- 
velop his  property  end  in  failure  and  realized 
fully  what  the  significance  of  a  third  failure 
would  be.  And  Paxton  had  left  nothing  undone 
to  shake  John  Mackay 's  confidence  in  the  future 
of  his  property,  now  that  it  was  in  the  hands  of 
Henry  Tyne.  It  was  with  mixed  feelings,  there- 
fore, that  he  got  from  his  bunk  and  going  down  to 
the  water's  edge  to  wash  in  thosw  early  spring 
mornings,  listened  to  the  sounds  of  the  work  that 
was  going  on  in  the  two  camps.  Once  out  of  sheer 
loneliness  and  prompted  by  a  feeling  of  his  own 
helplessness  where  men  like  Warren  Paxton  and 
Henry  Tyne  were  fighting  it  out  over  his  head,  he 

178 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  179 

swallowed  his  pride  and  walked  over  to  see  John 
Allen.  They  had  not  met  on  friendly  terms  since 
the  day  he  had  left  John  Allen's  cabin  and  gone 
to  live  by  himself.  But  tie  felt  sure  that  John 
Allen  shared  some  of  his  uneasiness  at  the  pres- 
ence of  outsiders  whose  power  was  money  and 
whose  sense  of  values  had  long  been  distorted 
because  it  had  been  permitted  no  expression  ex- 
cept what  it  could  find  in  terms  of  dollars  and 
cents.  Half  an  hour  later  he  returned  to  his 
cabin  disconsolate  and  out  of  sorts  with  the 
world  in  general — John  Allen  had  gone  to  The 
Pas  for  his  outfit.  He  put  his  canoe  into  the 
water  and  spent  the  day  moving  about  from 
island  to  island  and  from  bay  to  bay  enjoying 
the  luxury  of  supreme  idleness.  He  only  hoped 
that  John  Allen — stubborn  old  fool  that  he  was — 
would  not  become  like  one  of  these  outsiders. 

Nor  was  John  Mackay  the  only  one  who  watch- 
ed the  growth  of  the  two  camps  with  wondering 
and  misgiving.  Day  after  day  Jule  Allen  sat 
on  the  great  rock  above  the  falls  and  listened  to 
the  sounds  that  came  first  from  one  camp  and 
then  from  the  other.  Often  she  drew  her  big 
dog  Snap  down  beside  her  and  confided  fears 
that  she  scarcely  knew  how  to  express*.  The 
world  she  had  known  as  her  own  was  being  in- 
vaded by  strangers.  Even  now,  with  the  work 
only  beginning,  she  felt  that  the  place  was  no 
longer  her  own.  She  had  gone  about  freely  for 
years,  had  romped  and  played  over  ground  that 


180  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

ehe  called  her  own  without  finding  anyone  to  dis- 
pute the  claim.  Already,  she  felt,  the  limits  of 
her  freedom  were  being  set  by  the  newcomers. 
To  her  it  seemed  that  her  sacred  rights  were 
being  outraged. 

And  yet,  she  told  herself,  she  should  be  happy 
at  the  thought  that  some  day  a  town  with 
hundreds,  even  thousands  of  people  would  spring 
up  on  the  very  ground  she  had  called  hers.  Her 
father  had  told  her  so,  though  she  never  quite 
knew  whether  her  father  was  happy  in  the  pros- 
pect or  not.  He  only  knew  that  he  had  de- 
termined upon  a  course  of  action  that  would 
make  him  as  strong  a  man  as  these  who  were 
coming  in  from  the  outside.  Her  father  at  any 
rate  was  no  outsider.  These  others  she  despised 
because  she  knew  that  they  cared  no  more  for  the 
country  she  loved  than  people  did  who  had  never 
heard  of  it.  They  would  come  in  for  what  they 
could  get,  stay  until  they  had  taken  it  and  then 
disappear  as  suddenly  as  they  had  come.  Her 
father  had  reminded  her  of  that,  too,  though  she 
had  felt  it  instinctively  before  he  mentioned  it. 

Paxton  and  Tyne  were  mere  names  to  Jule 
Allen,  names  that  she  hated  equally  and  without 
discrimination.  Phil  Eoche  she  thought  of  fre- 
quently, now  that  he  had  come  to  superintend 
operations  on  Paxton  's  property,  but  never  with 
sentiment.  The  months  that  had  passed  since 
the  unfortunate  affair  at  Cumberland  House  had 
practically  effaced  even  the  memory  of  what  she 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  181 

had  once  felt  towards  him.  Nor  did  it  ever  occur 
to  her  to  be  afraid  of  him.  It  was  as  if  he  had 
never  existed  for  her,  as  if  his  stories  of  big 
cities  and  crowded  streets  had  never  been  told. 
Towards  Kirk  Brander  she  was  without  feeling 
except  annoyance  over  what  had  occurred  that 
day  on  the  hillside.  Somehow  she  associated 
Kirk  with  Marion  Curtis.  He  was  as  much  a 
stranger  to  her  as  if  he  had  just  come  from  the 
city  to  assist  in  exploiting  the  mines  and  to  get 
out  again  when  his  work  was  done. 

And  so  she  watched  both  camps  and  listened 
to  the  shouts  of  the  men  and  the  grinding  of 
chains  and  wheels  and  the  cold  hard  rattle  of  the 
ore  in  the  buckets,  and  felt  herself  very  far 
from  it  all. 

Kirk  Brander  came  in  from  his  cold  plunge 
in  the  lake  and  began  brisk  preparations  for  sup- 
per. Lying  on  the  bunk  in  one  corner  of  the 
cabin  was  old  man  Dags  taking  a  few  minutes' 
sleep  before  the  cook  house  gong  should  sound. 
Tuck  Roberts  in  a  homemade  easy  chair  sat  by 
the  window  lazily  turning  the  pages  of  a  maga- 
zine iwo  months  old.  Bingo  lay  near  the  door 
with  his  snout  between  his  paws. 

"Booh!"  Kirk  said  as  he  broke  through  the 
open  doorway  and  startled  Dags  out  of  his  sleep. 
"That  water  sure  has  pep  in  it.  You  ought  to 
get  into  it,  Tuck," 


182  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

He  began  drying  Ms  hair  vigorously  with  a 
fresh  towel. 

"You  can  have  it,"  Tuck  drawled  with  his  chin 
on  his  chest. 

"I  wish  your  damn*  lake'd  freeze  over!"  Dags 
exploded,  rolling  out  of  the  bunk  and  preparing 
to  take  a  modest  wash  in  the  basin  that  stood  just 
outside  the  door. 

The  work  in  the  camp  had  been  in  full  swing 
for  a  month  with  gangs  of  men  working  in  double 
shifts  so  that  not  an  hour  of  the  twenty-four  was 
lost.  Even  as  they  waited  for  the  gong  to  summon 
them  to  supper  the  ground  beneath  their  feet 
shook  perceptibly  from  the  shock  of  the  ex- 
plosions in  the  shafts.  The  regular  puffing  that 
came  from  the  engine  house,  the  noisy  rattle  of 
the  lifts  in  the  shafts,  the  metallic  roar  of  the 
rock  tumbling  out  of  the  carriers  and  rolling 
down  the  side  of  the  ore  dump,  all  gave  evidence 
of  life  and  activity.  From  the  lake  came  the 
laboured  chug-chug  of  a  gasoline  launch  towing 
in  a  raft  of  wood  that  was  almost  too  much  for 
it.  Standing  in  groups  about  the  camp,  within 
easy  distance  of  the  cook  camp,  the  day  shift 
waited  the  summons  to  supper. 

Kirk  came  to  the  doorway  of  his  cabin  and 
stood  for  a  moment  looking  across  the  lake  to 
where  the  little  launch  was  struggling  with  its 
load. 

"If  it  wasn't  a  dead  calm  he'cl  never  make  it 
with  that  load,"  he  commented. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  183 

"He  thinks  he's  takin'  a  rise  out  of  the  Al- 
mighty," Dags  replied,  wiping  his  hands  dry  in 
the  towel  as  he  stood  and  gazed  across  the  lake. 

Kirk's  eyes  shifted  until  they  rested  upon  the 
camp  on  the  opposite  ishore  of  the  lake.  A  little 
to  the  left,  Kipple  Creek  entered  the  lake  and 
in  the  brief  moments  of  silence  that  came  oc- 
casionally unbroken  by  the  noises  from  the  camps, 
Kirk  could  hear  the  muffled  roar  of  the  rapida 
before  Jule  Allen's  cabin. 

For  reasons  that  are  best  known  to  the  young, 
Kirk  Brander  had  come  to  think  of  the  cabin 
back  there  among  the  trees  as  Jule  Allen's 
cabin.  He  had  seen  nothing  of  either  Jule  or  her 
father  since  he  had  come  back  from  The  Pas 
with  his  men  and  had  begun  work.  He  knew, 
only  from  his  own  freighters  and  the  men  who 
brought  in  the  mail  that  John  Allen  had  gone  to 
The  Pas  nearly  a  month  ago  to  get  his  equipment 
loaled  and  chipped  in.  From  time  to  time  his 
men  had  reported  the  progress  the  old  English- 
man was  making  and  he  knew  that  by  this  time 
John  Allen  would  be  somewhere  north  of 
Sturgeon  Landing  on  the  most  hazardous  stages 
of  his  journey.  Many  times  during  the  past  month 
Kirk  had  thought  of  going  to  see  Jule  Allen.  He 
felt  that  he  should  do  something  to  make  amends 
for  the  unfortunate  manner  of  their  first  meet- 
ing. Besides,  Tuck  Roberts  was  in  the  habit  of 
spending  a  great  deal  of  his  time  with  old  John 
Mackay.  Soon  Ruth  would  come  to  live  with  her 


184  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

father  and  Kirk  knew  that  from  then  on  he  would 
see  little  of  Tuck  except  when  they  were  at  work 
during  the  day.  Frequently,  more  in  fun  than 
anything  else,  he  had  threatened  to  leave  Tuck 
and  Dags  and  spend  the  evening  with  Jule  Allen. 
But  John  Allen's  absence  and  the  fact  that  he 
was  not  likely  to  be  well  received  anyhow,  made 
him  decide  to  await  a  more  propitious  moment. 

Tuck  emerged  from  the  cabin  and  broke 
abruptly  upon  his  reveries. 

"Any  sign  of  the  mail  yet?"  he  asked,  casting 
his  eyes  in  the  same  direction  as  Kirk  was  look- 
ing. 

"You  ought  to  -go  and  meet  them,"  Kirk 
smiled  in  reply. 

The  sound  of  the  supper  gong  brought  to  a 
sudden  end  the  little  scuffle  that  followed  Bark's 
remark,  and  they  hurried  off  together  with 
Dags  following  closely. 

During  the  supper  hour  news  came  of  the  ar- 
rival of  the  mail,  and  Kirk  and  Tuck  left  the 
table  early  to  go  to  the  little  office  where  the  mail 
was  received.  When  they  had  opened  the  sacks 
and  sorted  the  letters,  they  took  up  the  bundles 
of  magazines  and  papers  and  the  letters  that 
were  theirs  and  went  into  their  cabin. 

For  an  hour  they  were  so  absorbed  that  neither 
had  anything  to  say  to  the  other.  Once  Tuck, 
commanding  a  manner  as  casual  as  possible,  an- 
nounced that  Euth  Mackay  was  coming  to  live 
with  her  father  in  less  than  a  week.  Kirk  re- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  185 

ceived  the  announcement  with  little  show  of  in- 
terest. A  long  letter  from  Marion  Curtis  and 
another  from  Henry  Tyne  engrossed  his  atten- 
tion. Both  letters  were  outwardly  optimistic 
and  yet  Kirk  could  not  help  feeling  that  they 
were  meeting  new  difficulties  in  raising  the  funds 
necessary  for  their  enterprise.  Nothing,  Kirk 
realized,  but  the  unobstructed  development  of 
the  mine  and,  in  addition  to  that,  the  possible 
uncovering  of  new  bodies  of  high  grade  ore 
would  establish  the  confidence  in  their  under- 
taking, without  which  they  would  seek  substantial 
credits  in  vain.  The  effect  of  the  letters  was  to 
make  Kirk  even  more  determined  than  ever  to 
swing  his  end  of  the  work  along  smoothly. 

He  looked  up  from  his  letters  suddenly  as 
Dags  entered  the  doorway. 

"John  Allen's  home,"  Dags  announced. 

"When?"  Kirk  asked. 

"The  boys  brought  him  in  with  them." 

"The  boys?" 

"The  mail.  The  old  man's  just  about  done 
for." 

There  was  a  note  of  genuine  sympathy  in 
Dags '  voice. 

"Something  wrong,  Dags?"  Kirk  asked. 

"Lost  everything  at  the  upper  rapids  on  Rat 
Creek,"  Dags  replied.  "A  cable  slipped  when 

they  were  trackin'  the  rapid  and "  He  made 

a  motion  with  his  hands  indicating  that  every- 
thing had  been  swept  away. 


186  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Kirk  and  Tuck  were  B  truck  dumb  at  the  an- 
nouncement. Dags  fiat  dawn  on  the  edge  of  his 
bunk  and  lighting  his  pipe,  smoked  a  moment  in 
silence. 

"He  never  should  'a'  done  it,"  he  observed 
finally.  "It's  just  like  temptin'  God  Almighty." 

"I'm  going  over  to  see  the  old  man,"  Kirk 
said,  going  to  the  doorway  and  looking  out  at  the 
lake. 

"It  might  be  a  good  idea/'  Dags  remarked. 
"The  boys  gay  there's  nothin'  left  to  him  at  all. 
Paxton  came  back  again  to-day,  too." 

Kirk  took  his  hat  from  the  wall  and  without 
a  word  to  either  Tuck  or  Dags  left  the  cabin  and 
when  he  reached  the  limits  of  the  camp,  followed 
the  narrow  trail  that  ran  through  the  woods  to- 
wards John  Allen's  cabin.  In  ten  minutes  he 
stood  before  the  open  door  and  with  hat  in  hand 
spoke  John  Allen's  name. 

Jule  Allen  came  from  a  small  room  at  the  back 
of  the  cabin  and  stood  for  a  moment  before  TiJTn. 
It  was  evident  that  she  expected  him  to  tell  her 
his  business  if  he  had  any.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  her 
uninviting  demeanor,  he  could  see  that  in  her 
heart  she  was  deeply  troubled  and  that  he  was 
more,  welcome  at  that  moment  than  she  was  pre- 
pared to  admit, 

"I've  come  to  gee  John  Allen,"  Kirk  said 
quietly. 

Jule  led  tie  way  into  the  ro-om  out  of  which 
she  bad  just  eome.  John  AJlen  lay  in  bed,  his 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  187 

head  propped  against  pillows,  his  hands  lying  in 
listless  fashion  on  the  coverlet.  He  tnrned  his 
face  slowly  towards  Kirk  as  he  entered  the  room. 
Dags  had  reported  more  truly  than  he  knew. 
John  Allen  had  come  to  the  end  of  his  physical 
resources.  His  experiences  of  the  past  few  days 
had  broken  him  so  that  he  was  little  more  than  a 
ghost  of  his  former  self. 

"I've  come  to  see  you,"  Kirk  said  as  he  ad- 
vanced and  took  the  old  man's  hand  in  his.  "And 
I  want  to  tell  you  that  I'm  sorry  for  what  has 
happened.  It  was  hard  luck." 

John  Allen  motioned  Kirk  to  a  seat  and  then 
for  a  moment  closed  his  eyes.  After  a  long  sil- 
ence he  turned  his  head  and  looked  at  Kirk. 

"It  was  more  than  hard  luck,  Brander,"  he 
said  in  a  broken  voice.  "It  means  the  end — I 
can't  go  on  any  more.  I  didn't  think  one  blow 
would  take  the  fight  out  of  a  man — but  it  will — if 
it's  hard  enough." 

"You'll  go  on  again,  John  Allen,"  Kirk  en- 
couraged him.  "A  man  doesn't  quit  until  he's 
all  in — and  you've  got  something  left." 

The  old  prospector  seemeid  on  the  point  of 
making  a  reply  but  he  hesitated  and  moved  his 
head  impatiently.  Thee  he  looked  towards  the 
door  of  his  room. 

" Where's  the  girl?"  he  asked. 

Jule  appeared  immediately  at  the  sound  of  her 
father's  voice.  "What  is  it,  father?"  she  asked. 

"Jule,"  he  eaid  quietly,  "I  think  I'd  like  to 

(18) 


188  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

see  John  Mackay  for  a  while.  It 's  e,arly  yet.  Go 
and  tell  him  I  want  him.  I'll  be  all  right — 
Brander  here  will  stay  till  you  come  back." 

Jule  left  immediately  and  Kirk  drew  his  chair 
closer  to  the  bedside.  The  old  prospector  lifted 
himself  a  little  and  took  his  pipe  and  tobacco 
from  the  stand  near  the  head  of  his  bed.  He 
filled  it  leisurely  and  in  silence  and  when  he  had 
applied  a  match  and  taken  a  few  puffs  he  turned 
his  eyes  towards  Kirk. 

"It's  all  right,  Brander, "  he  said,  pointing  the 
stem  of  his  pipe  towards  Kirk  to  give  emphasis 
to  what  he  was  saying,  "it's  all  right  for  you  to 
tell  me  I'm  going  on  again.  But  it  isn't  true. 
You  are  young  and  don't  know  what  I  know. 
When  a  man's  done — he's  done.  It's  been  a  fight 
with  me  for  the  last  year-  but  I  thought  I'd  get 
going  again  when  I  started  to  work  the  place 
here.  But  a  man  of  my  age  knows  pretty  well 
when  it's  all  over  with  him.  I've  plugged  along 
and  scrambled  my  way  through  for  years  in  this 
country.  But  life  here  takes  more  than  it  gives/' 

He  paused  a  moment  to  puff  again  at  his  pipe, 
then  he  went  on  again. 

"I  had  one  chance — and  it's  gone.  If  I  could 
have  got  in  here  with  the  drill  and  got  down  to 
work  for  the  summer  I  could  have  shown  some 
of  you  fellows  what  I  had  here.  I'd  have  made 
you  come  to  me  to  talk  business  and  you'd  have 
listened  to  my  terms.  Now — it's  gone — the  only 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  189 

r 

real  chance  I  ever  had.  I  spent  my  last  dollar 
and  I  haven't  it  in  me  to  go  on." 

Kirk  took  advantage  of  a  moment's  pause. 
"Is  there  anything  I  could  do — anything  that 
would  helpf"  he  asked,  keenly  aware  of  his  own 
helplessness. 

"There  are  things — some  things  that  might 
be  done,"  John  Allen  admitted  slowly,  "but  they 
can  wait.  We'll  see  in  a  few  days  just  how  I'm 
going  to  get  along.  I  may  be  out  again  and 
around  before  very  long.  If  anything  should 
happen  —  if  it  happened  suddenly  —  there 'd  be 
some  things  to  do — yes.  But  the  truth  is,  Brander, 
I  can't  trust  outsiders.  You're  all  right — never 
heard  anything  to  the  contrary — but  Paxton 
wouldn't  stop  at  any  tiling.  I  don't  know  Tyne, 
but  I  suspect  they're  all  alike,  Brander,  and  so 
long  as  you're  one  of  them — you're  one  of  them." 

"I  wish  you  could  talk  for  half  an  hour  to 
Henry  Tyne,"  Kirk  suggested.  "He's  not " 

"You  don't  see  things  as  I  do,  Brander,"  the 
old  prospector  interrupted.  "These  fellows  from 
the  city  don't  care  for  this  country  except  for 
what  they  can  grab  and  carry  away  with  them. 
With  us  it's  different.  This  is  the  place  I've 
come  to  live.  It's  my  home  and  I  want  to  stay 
here  and,  when  the  time  comes,  die  here,  to*). 
That's  what  makes  the  difference.  That's  what 
makes  it  hard  to  put  any  faith  in  outsiders.  When 
they  are  through  with  the  country  there  will  be 
nothing  left  to  show  that  we've  been  here  except 


190  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

some  holes  in  the  ground,  some  worked-out 
shafts,  a  few  broken-down  cabins,  and  a  few  hills 
stripped  bare  of  trees." 

He  paused  abruptly  and  looked  towards  the 
door. 

"I  thought  I  heard  someone  coming,"  he  said. 

As  he  spoke  a  knock  sounded  at  the  door  and 
to  John  Allen's  summons,  "Warren  Paxton 
entered  from  the  outside  and  found  his  way  to 
the  doorway  of  the  room.  When  his  eyes  fell 
upon  Kirk  he  paused  abruptly  and  waited  for 
John  Allen  to  bid  him  enter.  The  old  prospector 
merely  spoke  Paxton 's  name  and  motioned  with 
his  hand. 

Paxton  came  forward  briskly.  "I  hear  youVe 
had  a  run  of  bad  luck,  John,"  he  said  with  an 
evident  effort  at  cheerfulness. 

John  Allen  didn't  reply  at  once,  and  Paxton 
turned  to  Kirk,  his  teeth  showing  through  his 
smile.  "Bumps  come  to  the  best  of  us,  Brander," 
he  remarked. 

"Even  the  oldest  of  us,"  Kirk  replied. 

"Youth  or  age  doesn't  really  count,"  Paxton 
smiled. 

"Except  that  the  younger  you  are  the  quicker 
you  are  on  the  come-back,"  Kirk  retorted. 

Paxton  laughed  a  little  and  turned  to  John 
Allen. 

"This  will  change  your  plans  a  bit,  John,"  he 
remarked  drily. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  191 

Though  he  waited  for  a  reply,  John  Allen  did 
not  speak. 

"As  a  matter  of  business,  simply,  I  want  you 
to  know  that  I'm  prepared  to  open  the  question 
of  the  White  Squaw  any  time  you  feel  like  it," 
he  continued. 

John  Allen  made  an  impatient  gesture  which 
Paxton  picked  up  quickly.  "We  won't  talk  of 
that  now,  of  course,"  he  explained.  "In  the 
meantime,  if  there's  anything  I  can  do,  just  call 
on  me.  I'd  be  glad  to  help  you  in  any  way  pos- 
sible." 

"Thanks,"  murmured  John  Allen. 

"We're  neighbors  here,  John,"  Paxton  con- 
tinued, following  up  what  looked  like  a  small  ad- 
vantage, "and  in  this  country  neighbors  are  few 
and  far  between.  Count  on  me  if  I  can  be  of  any 
service." 

"It's  neighbors  we  need  in  this  country,  Mr. 
Paxton,"  John  Allen  commented,  "need  them 
badly." 

But  Paxton  did  not  catch  the  significance  of 
the  remark.  Kirk  on  the  other  hand  found  a 
strange  satisfaction  in  knowing  precisely  what 
John  Allen  meant. 

"I've  brought  in  a  bit  of  fresh  news  to  you," 
Paxton  went  on  after  a  pause  in  the  conversa- 
tion. "I  had  a  trip  to  Winnipeg  this  time  and 
secured  a  lease  on  the  falls  to  develop  power.  Be- 
fore another  year  we'll  have  your  cabin  lighted 
with  electricity,  John." 


192  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Kirk  censed  at  once  the  effect  the  announce- 
ment would  have  on  the  old  prospector.  He 
could  not  understand  how  Paxton  could  be  so 
thick-skinned  as  not  to  see  how  the  news  would  be 
taken.  John  Allen  turned  suddenly  towards 
Paxton  and  his  face  went  white. 

"You  don't  mean  our  falls — the  falls  in  the 
creek  heref "  he  asked  in  a  voice  that  plainly  ex- 
pressed his  bewilderment. 

"Yes — certainly, "  Paxton  replied.  "Why 
not?" 

"Why  not?  Why,  man — my  girl — don't  yon 
understand — she  won't  let  you  do  that!" 

Paxton 's  smile  broadened.  "That's  just 
sentiment,"  he  reminded  the  old  man,  "and  a 
girl's  sentiment,  at  that.  Practical  men ' 

"I'm  a  practical  man,  Paxton,"  John  Allen 
interrupted  in  a  voice  that  was  quickly  getting 
out  of  control,  "and  I'm  going  to  tell  you  that  as 
long  as  I  live  you're  not  going  to  put  your  hands 
on  the  power  in  that  waterfall." 

Paxton 's  impatience  was  quite  evident. 

"But  I've  got  the  lease — I  can  go  ahead  when 
I'm  ready,"  he  insisted. 

"Go  ahead!"  John  Allen  replied.  "Try  it! 
For  years  my  girl  has  gone  there  to  rest,  she  has 
taken  her  work  there  and  sat  for  hours  above 
it,  it's  been  to  her  like  a — like  a  house  of  God, 
Paxton,  and  the  first  man  that  puts  a  hand  to 
changing  it  will  have  to  reckon  with  me." 

As  he  spoke  there  came  the  sound  of  footsteps 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  193 

from  without  and  in  a  moment  Jule  Allen  entered 
followed  by  old  John  Mackay.  Paxton  got  up 
from  where  he  had  been  sitting  and  left  abruptly 
muttering  a  few  words  of  greeting  to  the  new- 
comers and  a  brief  word  or  two  of  leave-taking 
that  John  Allen  did  not  hear. 

For  a  few  moments  John  Mackay  stood  in  the 
doorway  and  looked  at  John  Allen  in  silence. 

"Something  wrong,  John?"  asked  John  Mae- 
kay. 

John  Allen  put  out  his  hand  and  the  two  old 
prospectors  gripped  hands  in  a  long  and  silent 
reconciliation. 

"I've  been  hit  hard,"  remarked  John  Allen. 
"I  don't  think  there'll  be  much  more  to  tell." 

"The  girl  has  told  me,"  said  John  Mackay, 
sitting  down  and  taking  his  pipe  from  his  pocket. 

Jule  had  already  withdrawn  and  Kirk  felt 
that  the  two  old  men  would  be  more  comfortable 
if  left  alone.  He  got  up  and  with  a  brief  good- 
bye reminded  John  Allen  that  he  would  help  if 
he  could,  and  went  out. 

He  found  Jule  Allen  standing  alone  in  the 
doorway  of  the  cabin.  As  he  approached  she 
stepped  out  and  moved  slowly  towards  the  nar- 
row trail  that  led  from  the  cabin  to  the  rock  above 
the  falls.  Kirk  watched  her  for  a  few  moments 
and  then,  closing  the  cabin  door  behind  him 
quietly,  followed  after  her  without  speaking. 

When  they  had  come  to  the  rock,  they  stood  a 
moment  and  looked  down  along  the  creek  to 


194  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

where  the  lake  showed  in  the  wide  opening  be- 
tween the  trees  on  either  bank.  The  sun  had 
gone  down  and  the  twilight  had  already  begun  to 
set  in.  A  tint  -of  purple  lay  upon  the  water  of  the 
lake,  purple  and  turquoise  blue,  and  beyond 
stretched  the  long  shore  line  with  its  shadows  of 
black-pointed  spruce  in  silhouette  against  an 
amber  sky.  A  long  way  off,  the  low  shore  was 
but  a  ragged  bar  of  smoky  blue  and  the  light  on 
the  water  a  mere  dusky  gray.  The  colors  had 
faded  from  the  rocks  nearby  and  they  lay  dead 
against  the  background  of  shaded  shore. 

Kirk  turned  his  eyes  from  the  lake  and  the 
wooded  shores  and  looked  at  Jule. 

"I've  come  out  here  to  tell  you  that  there's 
trouble  ahead  for  you,  Jule  Allen,"  he  said 
quietly,  "and  to  tell  you  that  I'm  going  to  help 
you  whether  you  want  me  to  or  not. ' ' 

When  she  turned  to  him  her  face  was  troubled 
and  her  glance  was  searching. 

"Do  you  think  he  can't  get  over  it?"  she  asked. 

"Let's  be  straight,"  Kirk  replied.  "He's  too 
hard  hit." 

"I  know  it,"  she  said,  turning  away  to  hide  the 
tears  that  were  rising  to  her  eyes. 

"If  it  will  help  any,"  Kirk  went  on,  "tell  him 
that  Paxton  will  never  lay  a  hand  on  the  water 
power  of  Ripple  Creek  while  I'm  alive." 

She  turned  quickly  to  look  at  Kirk. 

"I  don't  understand -I " 

"He'll  tell  you  all  about  it,"  Kirk  explained. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  195 

"Paxton  has  been  over  again.  Just  tell  John 
Allen  what  I  have  said.  It  may  help  him  to  rest 
a  little  easier." 

Kirk  turned  away  and  followed  the  trail  that 
led  back  to  camp.  He  paused  a  moment  just 
where  the  trail  disappeared  among  the  trees  and 
looked  back.  Jule  Allen  was  standing  still  where 
he  had  left  her.  Her  face  was  turned  towards 
him. 

"  Good-bye, "  he  called,  as  a  challenge  to  the 
gentler  nature  that  he  knew  was  hers  if  she  only 
permitted  it  expression. 

She  did  not  speak  but  while  he  waited  he  saw 
her  lift  her  hand  once  towards  him  and  when  he 
turned  again  into  the  trail  he  was  lighter  at 
heart  than  he  had  been  for  weeks. 


CHAPTER  XVH 

THOUGH  Kirk  had  regarded  from  every 
angle  the  proposal  to  develop  water  power 
out  of  the  falls  on  Eipple  Creek,  he  could 
not  bring  himself  to  think  that  Paxton  would 
actually  go  forward  with  the  work  until,  at  any 
rate,  the  whole  question  of  monopoly  in  the  dis- 
trict should  be  settled.  The  expense  necessary 
to  instal  a  power  plant,  Kirk  knew,  could  hardly 
be  justified  if  the  power  was  to  be  used  solely  on 
Paxton 's  claims.  If  Paxton 's  holdings  could  be 
made  to  include  the  White  Squaw  and  the  Mic- 
mac,  or  even  the  White  Squaw  alone,  there  would 
be  some  justification  for  such  an  enterprise.  The 
more  he  thought  about  it,  and  the  more  he  talked 
it  over  with  Tuck  and  Dags,  the  more  convinced 
he  was  that  Paxton 's  announcement  was  simply 
part  of  the  game  he  was  playing  to  discourage 
and  drive  others  from  the  field.  That  he  had 
secured  a  lease  on  the  site  there  was  no  reason 
for  doubting.  The  outlay  involved  would  be 
trifling  and  the  future  might  easily  justify  it.  But 
Kirk  had  little  fear  that  Paxton  would  make  im- 
mediate use  of  the  privileges  he  had  thus  secured. 
He  was  content,  therefore,  to  wait  until  he  saw 
Paxton  move  before  he  took  any  steps  to  inter- 

196 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  197 

fere.  He  had  quite  made  up  his  mind  that  he 
would  interfere,  and  in  a  very  direct  manner,  at 
the  first  indication  that  Paxton  was  going  to 
promote  his  interests  in  that  direction.  In  the 
meantime  he  had  informed  Henry  Tyne  of  Pax- 
ton's  avowed  intentions  and  of  his  •own  de- 
termination to  act  directly  and  as  he  should  think 
fit  at  the  time,  if  Paxton  should  take  any  steps  to- 
wards carrying  out  his  plans.  Whenever  he 
thought  of  the  matter  Kirk  was  seized  with  a 
spirit  of  recklessness  that  caused  him  to  dis- 
regard the  fact  that  Paxton 's  actions  would  prob- 
ably have  the  protection  of  the  law  while  his  own 
might  lead  him  into  difficulty  with  legal  authority. 
But  he  was  prepared  for  once  in  his  life  to  face 
the  consequences.  If  he  could -find  grounds  in  the 
meantime  for  bringing  the  whole  matter  into 
court,  so  much  the  better.  Before  a  decision 
could  be  handed  down  Henry  Tyne  would  have 
had  an  opportunity  to  show  what  he  could  do 
with  the  Micmac.  If  their  hopes  were  realized 
the  future  was  secure  and  it  would  only  be  a  mat- 
ter of  fime  before  they  could  push  Paxton  to  one 
side.  If  they  failed,  well,  they  had  done  all  they 
could  do  and  nothing  else  mattered. 

With  John  Allen,  a  broken-down  invalid,  and 
his  daughter,  Jule,  the  case  was  different.  Pax- 
ton's  announcement  had  touched  them  both  so 
vitally  that  they  were  unable  to  think  quietly  or 
to  reason  about  the  matter  at  all.  They  were  pre- 
pared simply  to  fight  to  the  very  end,  with  what- 


198  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

ever  means  they  could  find,  to  avert  what  seemed 
to  them  both  an  unnatural  outrage.  Day  after 
day  John  Allen  weakened  under  the  strain  of  his 
defeat.  Every  morning  he  sent  Jule  out  on  a 
little  trip  of  inspection  along  the  creek  lest  Pax- 
ton  should  make  any  move  without  his  knowing 
it.  Every  evening  when  John  Mackay  paid  his 
visit,  John  Allen  waxed  furious  over  the  affair 
and  when  he  had  exhausted  himself,  talked  long 
and  earnestly  about  the  future,  a  future  in  which 
he  was  convinced  Jule  would  have  to  go  on  alone. 
Jule  herself  went  often  now  for  comfort  and 
companionship  to  Euth  Mackay,  who  had  come 
to  live  with  her  father.  And  the  two  old  pros- 
pectors, nursing  their  grievances  against  the 
ways  of  the  world,,  watched  the  friendship  grow 
and  were  happy. 

"This  can't  go  on  much  longer,  girl,"  John 
Allen  murmured  one  morning  while  Jule  served 
him  with  breakfast.  "We've  got  to  face  things, 
even  the  hardest  things,  with  our  eyes  open." 

Jule  came  to  him  and  kneeling  beside  the  bed 
she  took  his  hands  in  hers. 

"You  mustn't  talk  like  that,  father,"  she  pro- 
tested. 

But  John  Allen  shook  his  head.  "I  must  talk 
while  I  can,  girl,  for  there  are  some  things  I  want 
you  to  know.  I  have  dreamed  big  things  for  you 
and  the  dreams  are  all  gone.  But  there  are  some 
things  still  that  I'd  do  if  I  had  my  strength.  I 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  199 

haven't  got  the  strength  and  I'm  not  going  to 
have  it  back,  and  I  want  yon  to  go  on.  This  place 
is  ours — yours  and  mine.  It's  been  home  to  ns 
and  I'd  hoped  some  day  to  make  it  a  little  more 
than  home,  I  wanted  to  see  it  the  place  where  men 
would  find  work  to  do  and  be  happy  in  doing  it.  It 
doesn't  seem  possible  now.  These  pirates  are 
pushing  in  all  round  us.  They're  going  to  snatch 
what  they  can  and  run  away  with  it  'Their 
homes  are  somewhere  else.  Don't  let  them  run 
off  with  our  home,  girl.  When  the  end  comes  I 
want  to  lie  here  under  our  trees  within  sound  of 
the  water  and — you  know  the  rest.  I've  spoken 
to  John  Mackay.  He'll  advise  you  and  he'll  help 
you.  And  when  the  time  comes — and  it  will  come 
— when  someone  will  find  you  here  and  want  to 
take  you  away,  tell  him — tell  him  how  you  love  it 
here  and  bring  him  to  see  that  you  can't  go.  We 
want  men  here  who  will  stay — men  who  will  live 
their  lives  here  because  they  have  found  the  place 
their  hearts  have  been  looking  for.  We  don't 
want  the  other  kind — the  kind  that  tear  and  de- 
stroy and  go  away  again  leaving  the  place  blasted 
and  ugly.  This  place  has  been  ours.  It'll  be 
yours  from  now  on.  You  must  do  with  it  as  you 
please,  but  you  must  grow  up  to  do  what  I  would 
have  done  if  I'd  gone  on." 

He  paused  and  laid  his  hand  upon  Jule's  head 
where  it  was  bowed  on  the  coverlet.  She  was 
weeping  softly  and  John  Allen  stroked  her  hair 
very  gently  for  a  while  before  he  continued. 


200  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"I'm  not  asking  too  much,  girl,"  he  said 
haltingly.  "I'm  only  asking  you  to  try.  It  may 
be  that  in  the  end  yon  will  find  what  I  have 
found,  that  the  task  is  too  much.  Well,  don't 
wait  too  long — don't  throw  away  your  life  in  a 
fight  that  can't  be  won.  All  I'm  asking  is  that 
you  remember  what  I've  said  and  that  you'll 
dream  about  it  and  fight  for  it  till  you  know  you 
have  to  give  up.  Now,  run  out  and  take  a  look 
along  the  creek." 

Jule  got  up  and  after  kissing  her  father  and 
holding  him  close  to  her  for  a  long  time  silently, 
turned  away  and  walked  towards  the  door.  When 
she  looked  back  the  tears  were  gone  from  her 
eyes  and  in  their  place  were  the  fires  that  danced 
there  on  the  afternoon  when  Kirk  had  met  her 
on  the  hillside.  She  was  John  Allen's  daughter 
as  she  stood  there  and  the  old  man's  pride  rose 
at  the  sight  of  her.  Then  she  whisked  away 
quickly  and  was  gone. 

And  as  Jule  took  her  way  through  the  woods, 
accompanied  as  usual  on  such  trips  by  her  dog, 
Snap,  she  felt  very  lonely  and  looked  about  her 
at  her  trees  and  rocks  in  the  hope  that  in  these 
friends  of  her  youth  she  might  find  some  comfort. 

It  had  rained  during  the  night,  a  warm,  early 
summer  rain  that  had  gone  deep  down  into  the 
roots  where  they  lay  bedded  in  the  brown  moss. 
The  boughs  of  the  spruce  were  a  clearer  green, 
the  black  boles  standing  very  rigid,  the  high 
points  scarcely  moving  against  the  gray  sky.  The 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  201 

birches  huddled  together  in  little  clumps  here  and 
there  seemed  to  dislike  the  feel  of  the  wet  rain 
on  their  dainty  leaves.  Underfoot  the  mosses 
were  soft  and  yielding  with  here  and  there  an 
uncovered  root  gleaming  white  above  ground. 
Now  and  then  Jule  stopped  and  shook  the 
heavy  raindrops  from  the  ground-plants  or 
watched  a  chattering  squirrel  hurry  off  at  Snap 's 
approach  and  mount  scolding  to  a  high  branch 
of  a  tree. 

She  left  the  little  path  she  had  been  following 
and  picked  her  way  carefully  among  the  low 
bushes  until  she  reached  the  stony  edge  of  the 
creek.  Above  her  hung  an  aider  bush,  its  soft 
dark  branches  leaning  towards  the  water  and 
holding  their  dark  leaves  up  to  the  sky  as  if 
waiting  for  the  sun  to  warm  them. 

Suddenly  from  a  distance  up  the  creek  came  the 
sound  of  voices  and  looking  out  cautiously  she 
caught  sight  of  Paxton  and  Koche  getting  from 
their  canoe  after  having  crossed  from  the  other 
side  of  the  creek.  Quickly  she  turned  and  ordered 
Snap  back  to  the  cabin.  Then  she  waited  under 
the  cover  of  the  alders  while  the  two  men  drew 
their  canoe  out  of  the  water  and  started  towards 
her.  When  they  had  come  within  a  few  yards  of 
her  she  withdrew  a  little  way  and  crouched  low 
behind  a  clump  of  willows  until  they  had  gone 
past.  Then,  hiding  as  best  she  could  behind  the 
trunks  of  spruce-trees,  she  followed  them,  keeping 
almost  within  hearing  distance,  Concealment  was 


202  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

not  difficult;  Koche  and  Paxton  were  so  intent 
upon  their  own  conversation  that  they  had  ears 
for  little  else. 

Finally  when  they  came  within  sight  of  the 
cabin  they  paused  and  stepped  down  closer  to  the 
edge  of  the  creek.  She  moved  close  enough  to  be 
able  to  hear  their  voices  quite  clearly  and  then 
took  a  position  behind  a  couple  of  spruce  trees 
that  stood  together.  And  while  she  listened  her 
blood  grew  warm  and  she  was  conscious  of  the 
quickened  beating  of  her  pulses.  Paxton  was  evi- 
dently bent  upon  going  on  with  the  power  project 
and  had  come  out  to  look  over  the  ground  on  both 
sides  of  the  creek  with  Phil  Roche.  Though  she 
could  pick  up  only  an  occasional  word  as  they 
spoke,  Jule  learned  enough  to  know  what  had 
brought  them  over  so  early  in  the  day. 

As  she  thought  of  her  father  lying  hopelessly 
ill  in  the  cabin  and  then  of  these  men  laying  their 
plans  in  total  disregard  of  his  helplessness,  she 
found  it  almost  impossible  to  control  herself.  But 
hard  as  it  was  to  keep  her  rising  anger  in  check, 
she  would  probably  have  succeeded  had  it  not 
been  for  Paxton 's  laugh  that  broke  loose  suddenly 
at  something  Phil  Eoche  had  said.  Jule  had  not 
heard  the  remark  but  Paxton 's  laugh  was  more 
than  she  could  bear.  She  stepped  quickly  from 
her  place  of  hiding  and  stood  out  upon  a  little 
moss-covered  ledge  of  rock  slightly  above  them. 
They  did  not  hear  her  movements  nor  did  they 
see  her  until  she  spoke. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  203 

"I  would  have  you  know  you  are  trespassing 
on  my  father 's  property, ' '  she  said. 

They  turned  suddenly  at  the  sound  of  her  voice. 

"Oh,  good  morning,  Miss  Allen,"  Paxton  re- 
plied, determined,  apparently,  to  take  her  words 
lightly. 

But  his  greeting  only  served  to  kindle  Jule's 
anger  the  more.  She  stepped  down  quickly  from 
where  she  had  addressed  them  and  going  up  to 
them  faced  Paxton,  her  eyes  blazing  and  her  two 
fists  clenched  tight  at  her  sides. 

"I  don't  want  your  'good  mornings',  Mr.  Pax- 
ton,"  she  declared.  "You  are  standing  where  you 
have  no  right  to  stand  without  my  father's  per- 


mission.  ' 


Paxton's  lips  parted  in  his  characteristic  smile. 

"We  are  aware  of  the  fact,"  he  replied,  "but 
now  that  we're  here  what's  to  be  done  about  it?" 

Jule  took  a  step  towards  him.  "You'll  go  back 
to  where  you  belong — you'll  not  stay  here!"  she 
retorted. 

Paxton  turned  to  Eoche  with  a  look  of  amused 
tolerance  on  his  face.  Roche's  expression  did  not 
change. 

"And  you'll  not  touch  that  waterfall,"  Jule 
flashed,  going  still  closer  to  Paxton  and  looking 
at  him  with  her  head  held  high.  "It's  mine— you 
can't  take  it— you  won't,  I  tell  you!  You  think 
you  can  do  what  you  like  because  he  can't  help 
himself.  If  he  can't  stop  you  I  will  I  And  I '11  do 
it  my  own  way — but  I'll  do  it!" 


204  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Paxton  looked  at  her  as  she  spoke  and  there 
dawned  gradually  in  his  mind  a  conviction  that 
Jule  Allen  meant  what  she  said.  He  looked  at 
Phil  Eoche  again  and  moved  uneasily.  He  could 
find  nothing  in  Phil 's  face,  however,  to  set  him  at 
ease.  He  stepped  abruptly  past  Jule  and  started 
off  towards  the  spot  where  they  had  left  their 
canoe. 

1  'Come  on,  Phil,"  he  muttered  half  to  himself, 
"We've  done  all  we  came  out  for  anyhow." 

Phil  paused  only  a  moment  to  look  again  at  Jule 
Allen  and  then  followed  Paxton.  Jule  did  not 
move  from  the  spot  until  they  had  passed  out  of 
sight  beyond  a  bend  in  the  creek.  Then  she  turned 
back  towards  the  trail  that  led  to  the  cabin. 

She  had  covered  about  half  the  distance  from 
the  creek  to  the  trail  when  she  was  startled  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  Snap  who  leaped  from  the 
cover  of  some  low  bushes  and  came  upon  her  with- 
out warning.  Instinct  prompted  her  to  turn  her 
eyes  in  the  direction  from  which  Snap  had  come 
to  meet  her.  As  she  did  so  Ruth  Mackay's  laugh 
sounded  from  behind  a  clump  of  birches  where 
she  had  hidden  herself  from  Jule's  view.  In  a  mo- 
ment Euth  was  beside  her. 

"Oh,  that  was  great!"  she  exclaimed,  almost 
breathless  from  excitement.  "I  came  just  in  time 
to  hear  it  all.  If  they  hadn't  gone  when  they  did, 
I'd  have  sent  Snap  in." 

Jule  gave  Euth  a  strange  look.    "I'm  glad  yon 


.THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  205 

didn't, ' '  she  said.  "It  wasn't  necessary.  We  can 
beat  them  without  dogs." 

' 'Yes,"  Kuth  persisted,  "but  wouldn't  it  be  fun 
to  see  old  Paxton  with  a  dog  after  him." 

They  laughed  heartily  together  at  the  picture 
their  imagination  presented  and  for  a  moment 
Jule  forgot  her  anger.  When  they  had  ceased 
laughing  Jule  turned  again  to  Kuth  and  her  ex- 
pression was  sober. 

"Joking  aside,  Ruth,"  she  said  with  some  de- 
liberateness,  "if  we  ever  get  into  trouble  with 
Paxton  you  can  call  Snap  to  help  settle  it,  but — it 
wouldn't  do  any  good  if  Phil  Roche  was  there." 

Ruth  was  in  a  mood  to  regard  Jule's  words 
lightly.  "A  dog  would  bite  Phil  Roche  as  quickly 
(as  anyone  else,"  she  said,  and  there  was  an  odd 
'expression  of  coyness  in  the  look  she  gave  Jule 
as  she  spoke. 

"Snap  wouldn't,"  Jule  replied  and  although 
Ruth  wondered  a  little  at  Jule 's  reply  there  was 
something  in  her  tone  of  voice  and  in  her  expres- 
sion when  she  spoke  that  made  it  impossible  to 
pursue  the  subject  any  further. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

KIRK  stood  in  the  doorway  of  his  cabin,  his 
eyes  following  the  forms  of  two  men  who 
had  taken  the  trail  into  the  woods  by  the 
creek.  Early  that  evening  he  had  paid  the  two 
men  off.  Though  nothing  had  been  said  on  the 
subject,  he  knew  that  those  two  men  were  on  their 
way  to  join  Paxton's  gang.  When  the  men  had 
disappeared  among  the  trees  he  turned  into  the 
cabin  and  faced  Tuck  Roberts  seriously. 

"We've  got  to  stop  this,  Tuck,"  he  observed. 
* '  That  makes  nine  men  in  the  last  two  weeks,  and 
four  of  them  have  gone  to  work  for  Paxton." 

"Dags  says  it's  getting  worse,"  Tuck  com- 
mented. 

Kirk  thought  a  moment.  "I  want  you  to  take 
a  look  around  the  place  to-night,  Tuck,"  he  said 
after  a  moment's  silence.  "I  have  an  idea  there's 
been  something  brewing  for  the  last  week  or  so  in 
that  bunkhouse  at  the  other  end  of  the  row.  I'll 
take  a  run  over  to  see  how  old  John  is — 111  be 
back  early." 

Kirk  was  not  groping  his  way  blindly  in  his  ef- 
forts to  find  an  explanation  of  the  growing  dis- 
content in  the  camp.  The  men  had  been  as  well 
fed  as  men  could  be,  considering  all  the  difficulties 

206 


THE  LOBSTICK  TEAIL  207, 

involved  in  getting  sufficient  food  into  the  camp 
by  freight  canoes.  Their  quarters  were  just  as 
comfortable  as  those  supplied  by  Paxton  for  his 
men.  It  was  a  clear  case  of  interference  from  the 
outside.  Kirk  had  discharged  two  men  who  had 
lain  off  work  for  no  apparent  cause  and  had  spent 
the  greater  part  of  a  week  lying  around  in  the  dif- 
ferent bunkhouses  and  visiting  the  camp  on  the 
other  side  of  the  lake.  They  had  gone  to  work  for 
Paxton  and  for  a  while  Kirk's  men  seemed  to 
have  settled  back  again  to  work.  The  relief  was 
only  temporary,  however.  In  a  few  days  mutter- 
ings  began  coming  to  Kirk's  ears  again  and  daily 
Tuck  Roberts  and  old  Dags  brought  in  fresh  re- 
ports of  stirring  discontent. 

Kirk  covered  the  trail  to  John  Allen's  cabin  in 
long  resolute  strides.  During  more  than  three 
weeks  since  the  old  prospector  had  come  home 
broken  from  his  defeat  in  the  rapids,  Kirk  had 
been  a  frequent  visitor  at  his  bedside.  His  visits 
had  been  of  necessity  brief,  but  the  old  man  was 
failing  very  fast,  and  Kirk  rarely  let  a  day  pass 
without  spending  a  few  minutes  with  him.  Jule 
seldom  put  in  an  appearance  when  he  was  around 
and  when  she  did  it  was  usually  in  the  company 
of  Euth  Mackay. 

As  he  came  and  stood  in  the  open  door  of  the 
cabin  he  saw  Ruth  and  Jule  sitting  back  in  the 
shadows  in  one  corner  of  the  large  room,  very 
close  together.  Hearing  the  voice  of  John  Mackay 
within,  Kirk  spoke  a  word  of  greeting  and  then 


208  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

went  into  the  room  where  John  Allen  lay.  For  a 
long  time  Kirk  and  John  Mackay  talked  that  night, 
their  voices  so  low  that  they  could  hear  the  heavy 
breathing  of  John  Allen.  The  old  man  himself  did 
not  speak  but  lay  for  the  most  part  with  his  eyes 
closed  and  his  hands  motionless  at  his  sides.  In 
spite  of  his  promise  to  Tuck,  Kirk  found  it  impos- 
sible to  hurry  away.  In  the  face  of  John  Allen 
there  was  something  so  wistful,  so  weary,  that  he 
could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  leave. 

When  at  last  he  got  np  from  his  chair  and  step- 
ped closer  to  the  side  of  the  bed  to  bid  good-night, 
John  Allen  lifted  his  hand  slightly  and  let  it  fall 
again  as  if  the  effort  was  too  much  for  him.  Kirk 
leaned  and  took  his  twitching  fingers  in  his  hand. 
As  he  did  so  he  felt  the  old  man's  hand  close  lin- 
geringly  in  a  weak  grip  that  plainly  expressed 
what  he  would  have  said  had  he  been  able  to  speak 
the  words.  A  moment  later  Kirk  turned  away 
with  a  great  heaviness  at  his  heart. 

At  the  door  he  came  upon  Jule  and  Euth  stand- 
ing together  in  silence,  their  arms  about  each 
other,  looking  out  into  the  night.  Prompted  by  an 
impulse  of  the  moment,  Kirk  paused  before  Jule 
and  offered  her  his  hand  in  parting.  She  re- 
sponded with  a  light  pressure  Off  her  fingers 
and  Kirk  turned  away  filled  with  a  great  tender- 
ness for  the  girl  who,  he  felt  sure,  would  soon  be 
alone  in  the  world. 

Tuck  was  already  waiting  for  him  when  he  got 
back  to  the  cabin. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  209 

"Well,  what's  the  word?"  he  asked. 

"Phil  has  been  over  since  you  left,"  Tuck  re- 
plied. 

Kirk  stopped  .suddenly  and  looked  at  Tuck. 
"You  saw  him?" 

"Just  as  he  was  leaving." 

"What  did  he  want?" 

"Didn't  seem  to  want  much  of  anything." 

4 1  Didn  't  you  speak  to  him  ? ' ' 

"He  was  in  his  canoe  before  I  caught  sight  of 
him." 

Kirk  smiled  a  little.  "You've  got  to  hand  it  to 
that  boy  for  nerve,"  he  said  appreciatively. 
"Anything  else  doing?" 

"They're  nearly  all  crowded  into  the  bunkhouse 
np  there,"  Tuck  replied.  "There's  been  trouble 
of  some  kind  and  a  fight  or  two  just  to  sweeten 
things  a  little." 

Kirk  buttoned  his  coat  about  him,  pulled  his  hat 
down  on  his  head  and  went  to  the  door.  "I'm 
going  to  take  a  stroll  up  there  and  see  what  it's 
all  about.  We've  got  to  clean  this  up." 

Tuck  followed  him  out  and  together  the  two 
took  the  way  that  led  between  the  two  rows  of 
cabins  in  which  the  men  were  quartered.  The 
doors  of  the  cabins  were  open  and  Kirk  noticed  as 
they  passed  that  all  the  houses  were  empty.  As 
they  approached  the  large  bunkhouse  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  row  they  caught  the  sound  of  the  men's 
voices,  half  a  dozen  speaking  at  once  in  vain  at- 
tempts to  make  themselves  heard. 


210  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Just  as  they  came  to  the  doorway  one  voice,  a 
little  louder  than  the  others,  shouted,  "To  hell 
with  the  company ! ' ' 

"Wait,"  said  Kirk,  pausing  a  moment  in  the 
darkness  outside  and  laying  a  hand  on  Tuck's 
arm. 

"To  hell  with  Brander !"  the  same  voice  shout- 
ed and  Kirk  made  a  bound  forward. 

Hurling  the  door  open  he  stopped  on  the  door- 
step and  looked  round  at  the  men. 

"Who  says  'To  hell  with  Brander '!"  he  asked 
in  a  voice  that  broke  so  suddenly  upon  the  men 
that  they  were  struck  silent. 

A  few  feet  away  Kirk  noticed  one  of  the  men 
he  had  paid  off  that  very  evening  and  had  seen 
take  the  trail  towards  Paxton's  camp.  He  reached 
down  and  seized  him  by  the  collar. 

"What  are  you  doing  here? "  he  asked.  "I  paid 
you  off — get  out  of  here !" 

He  lurched  backwards  through  the  doorway, 
dragging  the  fellow  with  him  and  almost  threw 
him  at  Tuck. 

"Here,  Tuck,"  he  said,  "boot  this  out  of  camp." 

Then  he  stepped  back  again  and  faced  the  men. 
"Who  says,  'To  hell  with  Brander?'  he  repeated 
looking  down  on  the  men  in  the  dimly  lighted  in- 
terior of  the  cabin. 

There  was  no  immediate  reply  to  his  challenge 
and  Bark  stepped  down  from  the  doorway,  moved 
slowly  along  the  narrow  aisle  between  the  bunks 
where  the  men  were  sitting,  and  paused  for  a 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  211 

fraction  of  a  second  to  look  each  man  in  the  eye  as 
he  passed. 

"When  he  had  gone  the  full  length  of  the  cabin 
he  turned  and  let  his  eyes  move  over  the  whole 
crowd. 

"Now,  what's  it  all  about?"  he  asked.  "If 
you've  any  real  kick  coming  on  the  treatment 
you're  getting  here  let's  have  it  and  get  it  over 
with." 

The  discussion  that  ensued  'began  slowly  at 
first  but  before  long  it  became  apparent  that  the 
men  were  in  two  factions.  When  one  man  spoke 
there  was  someone  of  the  opposing  side  ready  to 
reply  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes  Kirk  had  all 
he  could  do  to  control  the  situation  so  that  one 
man  might  speak  at  a  time  and  be  heard.  At  the 
end  of  half  an  hour  Kirk  had  learned  all  he  wanted 
to  know  concerning  the  part  Paxton  had  been  tak- 
ing in  creating  a  feeling  of  discontent  among  the 
men.  He  brought  the  discussion  suddenly  to  an 
end  by  offering  to  pay  off  any  who  were  not  satis- 
fied with  the  work  and  the  pay  they  were  getting 
or  could  find  better  quarters  or  food  anywhere 
else.  When  no  one  expressed  any  desire  to  accept 
his  offer  he  told  them  that  the  work  on  the  Micmac 
was  going  to  go  ahead  in  spite  of  the  reports  that 
Paxton 's  hirelings  had  circulated  to  the  contrary 
and  that  Paxton  would  be  made  to  tell  them  a 
straight  story  before  the  night  was  over,  if  they 
would  only  wait  where  they  were. 

Kirk  left  the  farther  end  of  the  aisle  and  came 


212  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

to  Tuck  where  lie  stood  leaning  in  the  doorway. 
"Come  on,  Tuck,"  he  said.  "We're  going  to  put 
a  good  big  crimp  in  this  game." 

He  led  the  way  down  the  hill  towards  the  shore 
of  the  lake  where  the  canoes  were  lying  upside 
down  near  the  water.  They  slipped  a  canoe  into 
the  water  without  speaking  and  pushed  away  from 
the  shore.  When  a  dozen  vigorous  strokes  of  the 
paddle  had  sent  the  canoe  darting  towards  the 
camp  on  the  other  shore,  Tuck  ventured  to  ask 
Kirk  what  he  was  going  to  do. 

"I'm  going  for  Paxton,"  he  said,  "and  I'm 
going  to  bring  the  old  geezer  back  dead  or  alive, 
or  you  can  make  arrangements  for  my  funeral. 
He  started  this  thing  and  he's  going  to  finish  it, 
only  I  'm  going  to  take  a  hand  in  telling  him  how 
to  do  it." 

Tuck  laughed  to  himself  and  sent  his  paddle  into 
the  water  with  redoubled  energy.  A  little  less  than 
ten  minutes  brought  them  to  the  other  side  of  the 
bay  and  Kirk  got  quickly  from  his  place  in  the  bow 
of  the  canoe  and  ran  up  the  narrow  path  leading 
into  Paxton 's  camp. 

When  he  had  gone  a  few  yards  he  turned  to 
Tuck  who  was  hurrying  to  overtake  him.  '  *  Stay 
in  the  canoe,  Tuck,  and  be  ready  when  I  bring  him 
down,"  he  advised. 

When  Tuck  protested,  Kirk  laughed.  "Don't 
get  worried,"  he  chuckled.  "I'm  not  going  to 
start  anything  I  can't  finish.  Just  wait  for  me." 

He  turned  and  strode  off  towards  the  cabins 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  213 

that  stood  among  the  trees  some  distance  from  the 
shore.  When  he  came  to  the  first  cabin  he  recog- 
nized it  as  one  of  the  bunkhouses.  Looking  about 
him  in  the  darkness  he  could  see  the  lighted  win- 
dows of  the  other  cabins  and  for  a  moment  he 
stood  trying  to  work  out  for  himself  the  ground 
plan  of  the  camp.  Only  a  few  yards  away  stood 
three  cabins  apart  from  the  others,  two  of  them 
without  any  light,  the  third  with  a  bright  light  in 
the  window.  Instinct  prompted  him  to  go  and 
take  a  closer  look  at  the  cabin  with  the  bright 
light.  Something  convinced  him  that  Paxton  was 
there. 

Quietly  he  approached  the  window  and  glanced 
within.  Seated  at  a  table,  his  face  turned  towards 
the  window  through  which  Kirk  was  looking,  Pax- 
ton  sat,  his  mind  evidently  intent  upon  some 
papers  he  had  spread  out  before  him.  Had  he 
looked  up  at  that  moment  he  would  have  seen 
Kirk's  face  in  the  bright  light  from  the  lamp  that 
stood  on  the  table.  Beside  him,  leaning  over  his 
shoulder  was  a  thin,  well-dressed  man  whom  Kirk 
knew  as  the  youth  Paxton  had  brought  in  from 
Winnipeg  to  look  after  his  office  and  stores.  No 
one  else  was  in  the  cabin. 

In  a  moment  Kirk  was  at  the  door.  Lifting  the 
latch  quickly  he  threw  the  door  open  and  jumping 
inside  closed  the  door  after  him.  With  his  back 
to  the  door  he  looked  at  Paxton  who  had  leaped 
from  his  chair  at  the  sudden  interruption  and  was 
now  on  his  feet,  startled  and  white  looking. 


214  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"What  do  you  mean  by  this  outrage?"  Paxton 
asked  in  a  voice  that  was  anything  but  even. 

"I  want  you,  Warren  Paxton,"  Kirk  announced 
directly,  "and  I  want  you  without  anything  rough. 
Put  on  your  hat  and  coat  and  come  with  me." 

" What's  the  game,  young  fellow?"  he  asked, 
struggling  to  regain  control  of  his  nerves. 

"There's  no  game  at  all,  except  the  one  you're 
playing,"  Kirk  replied,  "and  I'm  going  to  make 
you  play  it  through.  Get  into  your  hat  and  coat — 
you're  going  to  visit  my  camp  and  talk  to  my 
men." 

"Not  if  I  know  it!"  Paxton  retorted.  "Now 
you  get  out!" 

"Are  you  going  to  come  or — " 

"Get  out!" 

"You're  wasting  time,  Paxton,"  Kirk  reminded 
Tiim. 

For  reply  Paxton  turned  and  leaned  above  the 
table,  putting  his  hand  out  at  the  same  time  to- 
wards a  leather  holster  that  hung  on  a  belt  from 
a  nail  in  the  wall.  With  a  leap  Kirk  was  beside 
him.  Seizing  him  round  the  neck,  he  drew  his  arm 
up  so  that  Paxton 's  throat  was  in  the  crook  of  his 
elbow.  At  the  same  moment  he  seized  the  clerk 
with  his  other  hand. 

"Not  a  word  from  either  of  you,  now,"  he 
warned. 

He  knew  he  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  youth- 
ful clerk  who  had  been  practically  helpless  from 
the  first  shock  of  his  sudden  entrance.  Had  Pax- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  215 

ton  attempted  to  call  for  help  a  little  tightening  of 
the  arm  about  his  neck  would  have  sufficed. 

"Now  we'll  go — but  quietly,  and  nothing 
rough,"  Kirk  said  in  a  low  voice.  "You  don't 
really  need  your  coat — it's  warm  and  you  won't 
be  long." 

He  stooped  and  blew  out  the  light  and  then  the 
three  moved  awkwardly  towards  the  door.  When 
they  had  got  outside  Kirk  paused  a  moment  and 
peered  about  him  in  the  darkness.  There  was  no 
one  in  sight.  He  released  Ms  hold  upon  the  two 
men. 

"If  either  of  you  makes  a  false  move  or 
speaks,"  he  warned,  "well — don't  do  it!  Come 
on." 

With  his  hands  gripping  the  collars  of  the  two 
men  he  faced  them  towards  the  lake  and  urged 
them  forward.  Tuck  was  waiting  in  the  stern  of 
the  canoe  when  they  came  to  the  water's  edge. 
Silently  Kirk  directed  Paxton  to  his  place  in  the 
middle  of  the  canoe  and  then  spoke  to  the  clerk. 

"We'd  take  you  along  too  if  there  was  room," 
he  said,  "Just  wait  here  till  we  get  away  and  then 
you  can  go  on  back." 

He  put  one  foot  into  the  canoe  and  pushed  off 
with  the  other.  As  he  settled  himself  and  took 
his  paddle,  Paxton  protested.  "Do  you  think  I'm 
going  to  submit  to  this  ?  "  he  asked  angrily. 

Kirk  paid  no  attention  to  the  question.  "If  he 
makes  a  false  move,  Tuck,"  he  said  without  look- 


216  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

ing  around,  " chuck  him  over.  We'll  swim  for  it. 
Now,  dig  in ! " 

"This  is  a  damned  outrage!'*  Paxton  muttered, 
but  Kirk  and  Tuck  were  fairly  lifting  the  canoe 
out  of  the  water. 

They  found  the  men  waiting  for  them  on  the 
shore  when  they  landed  and  Kirk  lost  no  time  in 
getting  Paxton  from  the  canoe  and,  with  the  men 
following  close  behind,  hurrying  him  off  to  the 
large  bunkhouse  where  only  a  few  minutes  before 
he  had  been  in  conference  with  the  malcontents  of 
his  gang.  Others  of  the  camp  hands  had  gathered 
during  Kirk's  absence  so  that  when  they  had 
crowded  through  the  doorway  there  was  not  a 
square  foot  of  space  left  either  in  the  bunks  or  in 
the  aisle  between. 

Helpless  to  resist,  Paxton  accepted  the  inevit- 
able and  although  his  manner  was  anything  but 
gracious  he  made  no  real  attempt  to  retard  the 
carrying  out  of  the  plans  that  Kirk  had  laid.  Kirk 
led  the  way  to  the  farther  end  of  the  cabin  and 
getting  up  on  a  bench  that  stood  close  to  the  wall, 
reached  down  and  helped  Paxton  to  get  up  along- 
side him.  Then  he  waited  while  the  noise  sub- 
sided. 

"Here,"  Kirk  said  at  last,  "is  the  man  who  has 
been  causing  all  the  trouble  in  camp.  I  Ve  brought 
him  over  to  clear  the  air.  Let's  hurry  it  along — 
there'll  be  more  to  do  in  a  little  while  when  they've 
had  time  over  there  to  hear  about  the  kid- 
napping." 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  217 

Kirk's  questions  followed  one  another  in  quick 
order  and  Paxton,  anxious  to  get  out  of  his  em- 
barrassing position  as  quickly  as  possible  gave  his 
replies  with  a  directness  and  a  despatch  that  sur- 
prised Kirk.  He  admitted  his  responsibility  for 
the  reports  that  had  been  going  the  rounds  to  the 
effect  that  Henry  Tyne  was  practically  insolvent 
and  would  be  wrecked  financially  before  another 
two  months.  Under  pressure  he  even  declared 
that  Henry  Tyne  and  he  were  competitors  in  a 
field  where  anything  was  regarded  as  fair  that 
worked  for  the  other's  undoing,  so  long  as  it  was 
not  outside  the  law.  Then  his  ill-temper  got  the 
better  of  him. 

"But  this  kind  of  thing  is  outside  the  law,"  he 
stormed,  turning  to  Kirk.  "It  is  rank  interfer- 
ence with  a  man's  personal  rights,  and  I'm  going 
to  make  you  pay  for  it.  It's  an  outrage  of  the 
worst — " 

But  Kirk  had  heard  all  he  wished  to  hear. 
"Let's  get  out,"  he  said  stepping  down  from  the 
bench  and  pulling  Paxton  after  him. 

Paxton 's  protests  suffered  a  rude  interruption 
and  Kirk  hurried  him  through  the  crowd  and  out 
of  the  cabin.  Outside  he  found  Tuck  Roberts 
waiting  for  him  and  beside  him  old  man  Dags  who 
had  just  come  up  from  one  of  the  shafts  where  he 
had  been  at  work  since  early  evening. 

"Let  me  give  him  another  wettin',  Kirk,"  he 
said  as  he  saw  the  two  emerge  from  the  cabin. 

Kirk  hurried  down  the  slope  to  the  lake  and  in 


218  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

another  minute  they  were  on  their  way  back  again 
to  Paxton 's  camp.  That  the  clerk  would  have  lost 
no  time  in  spreading  the  news  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, Kirk  had  no  doubt.  He  knew,  moreover, 
that  Eoche  would  probably  act  quickly.  But  Kirk 
had  carried  off  the  whole  affair  without  a  mo- 
ment's interruption  and  Paxton  had  played  his 
part  with  such  little  hesitation  that  Eoche  would 
have  had  barely  enough  time  to  get  away  before 
Kirk  was  on  his  way  back.  Just  now  excited 
voices  came  from  the  shore  ahead,  and  the  rattle 
of  paddles  being  thrown  into  canoes.  Kirk  lis- 
tened, without  speaking,  to  the  light  scraping  of 
a  canoe  on  the  ground  and  the  soft  swish  as  it 
took  the  water.  Some  of  Paxton 's  men,  Phil 
Eoche  among  them  probably,  were  on  their  way 
across  the  bay. 

The  prospect  of  a  fight  on  the  water  with  the 
darkness  making  success  depend  largely  upon 
chance  did  not  appeal  to  Kirk,  particularly  since 
Paxton 's  men  were  in  all  probability  bringing 
three  or  four  canoes.  Had  it  been  man  for  man 
he  would  have  relished  the  experience  for  the 
sheer  novelty  of  it.  But  with  the  odds  so  over- 
whelmingly against  him  he  decided  to  curb  some- 
what the  spirit  of  recklessness  that  had  prompted 
his  actions  during  the  past  couple  of  hours  and 
proceed  with  more  caution. 

"More  to  the  right,  Tuck,"  he  directed.  "Give 
them  room  to  pass.  We  don't  want  to  mix  it 
here»" 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  219 

Tuck  sent  the  canoe  off  to  the  side  out  of  line  of 
the  approaching  canoes.  For  a  minute  or  more 
they  paddled  very  quietly  and  listened.  There 
were  at  least  three  canoes.  Gradually  they  be- 
came visible,  three  darker  shadows  emerging  from 
the  pale  shadow  of  sky  and  water.  The  men  were 
talking  and  plying  their  paddles  busily.  When 
they  were  abreast  of  the  leading  canoe,  Kirk  de- 
tected Phil  Eocheys  voice.  Paxton  heard  it  at  the 
same  moment  and  cleared  his  throat  as  if  prepar- 
ing to  call. 

Kirk  turned  quickly.  * ' You  wouldn  't  be  so  fool- 
ish as  that,"  he  said  very  quietly.  "The  water's 
cold  and  besides  —  you'd  never  make  it  from 
here." 

They  stopped  paddling  until  the  three  canoes 
were  behind  them  on  their  left,  then  they  put  their 
paddles  into  the  water  again  and  headed  directly 
for  the  landing.  As  they  approached  the  shore 
they  heard  the  voices  of  men  at  the  edge  of  the 
water.  With  three  canoes  filled  with  men  behind 
them  and  half  Paxton 's  gang  on  the  shore  ahead 
of  them,  Kirk  realized  suddenly  the  disadvantage 
of  his  position.  Paxton,  apparently,  was  as  alert 
to  the  change  in  advantage  as  he.  With  only  a 
few  yards  to  go  he  got  upon  his  knees  in  the 
canoe  and  shouted. 

"Hey,  you!   Phil!   Help,  here!" 

Kirk  lifted  his  paddle  out  of  the  water  and 
swung  it  round  threateningly  but  he  was  too  late. 
Already  the  men  on  the  shore  had  caught  sight  of 

(15) 


220  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

the  approaching  canoe  and  recognized  Paxton's 
voice.  Immediately  they  set  up  a  shouting  that 
could  have  been  heard  to  the  farthest  point  on  the 
lake.  Kirk  knew  that  in  a  few  minutes  the  three 
canoes  would  be  back  again  and  escape  would  be 
impossible.  To  throw  Paxton  into  the  water  and 
let  him  make  shore  as  best  he  could  would  have 
been  the  most  gratifying  way  out  of  the  difficulty. 
They  could  then  have  put  off  in  the  darkness  and 
trusted  to  their  paddles.  But  Paxton's  bulk  and 
the  unstability  of  a  canoe  made  such  a  course 
practically  impossible.  Moreover,  Paxton  would 
put  up  a  strenuous  fight  and  make  any  such  solu- 
tion at  least  difficult.  It  was,  above  all,  important 
that  they  should  not  lose  the  use  of  their  canoe  if 
they  were  to  get  safely  out  of  the  situation. 
Ahead  of  them,  a  crowd  of  miners  made  the  prob- 
lem of  landing  Paxton  an  extremely  difficult  one 
to  solve  with  any  hope  of  getting  away  again 
safely.  And  yet,  it  was  the  only  course  left  open. 

With  a  word  to  Tuck,  Kirk  reached  out  with  his 
paddle  and  the  canoe  leaped  forward.  Paxton 
continued  giving  commands  to  the  men  on  the 
shore,  'but  Kirk  gave  them  no  heed.  What  he  had 
to  do  now  could  be  accomplished  only  by  giving 
it  his  whole  attention.  Acting  on  suggestions 
from  Paxton,  a  half  dozen  of  his  men  came  close 
to  the  water's  edge  to  receive  the  canoe  as  it  ap- 
proached. Within  a  few  feet  of  the  shore  Kirk 
spoke  to  Tuck. 

"Drive  her!" 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  221 

He  put  all  the  strength  he  had  into  one  stroke  of 
his  own  paddle  then  jumping  to  his  feet  he  swung 
his  paddle  about  his  head. 

"Get  back,  get  back,  or  111  knock  your  brains 
out ! "  he  cried  and  brought  the  heavy  birch  paddle 
round  in  front  of  him. 

The  men,  taken  by  surprise,  fell  back  in  a  half 
circle  before  Kirk's  furious  sweeps  and  kept  at  a 
safe  distance  while  Tuck  shoved  the  point  of  the 
canoe  into  the  shore.  Paxton 's  urging  had  little 
visible  effect.  Only  one  was  reckless  enough  to 
attempt  to  get  under  the  paddle  and  rush  in.  As 
he  plunged  towards  the  bow  of  the  canoe,  Kirk 
put  his  foot  out  and  sent  him  sprawling  upon  the 
ground. 

In  the  meantime  Tuck  had  forced  Paxton  over 
the  side  of  the  canoe  and  with  the  use  of  his  own 
paddle  had  sent  him  wading  to  the  shore. 

"All  right,"  Tuck  cried,  and  Kirk  put  the  point 
of  his  paddle  against  the  shore  and  pushed  off. 
As  they  turned  the  canoe  about  in  the  water  and 
headed  it  back  towards  the  camp,  Kirk  and  Tuck 
heard  the  voices  of  Phil  Eoche  and  his  men  com- 
ing back.  They  had  had  time  to  cross  the  bay  and 
come  back  again.  They  had  probably  gone  all  the 
way  over  before  the  summons  shouted  by  Paxton 
and  the  men  on  shore  reached  them.  From  the 
sound  of  their  voices  Kirk  judged  that  they  had 
covered  half  the  distance  in  return  by  the  time  he 
and  Tuck  had  landed  Paxton  and  were  ready  to 
put  back. 


222  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Taking  a  course  to  the  left  they  had  paddled 
along  parallel  to  the  shore  for  a  hundred  yards  or 
so  in  the  hope  that  they  might  give  Roche  and  his 
men  the  slip.  But  Paxton  was  watching  their 
movements  from  the  shore  and  although  the  water 
was  dark,  Kirk  and  Tuck  were  not  far  enough  out 
to  take  full  advantage  of  the  cover  the  night  af- 
forded. Realizing  what  they  were  trying  to  do, 
Paxton  began  to  shout  new  directions  to  Roche. 
Only  a  few  minutes  more,  Kirk  knew,  and  the 
three  canoes  would  be  closing  in  on  them.  The 
only  possible  escape  lay  in  striking  out  boldly 
away  from  the  shore  until  they  should  get  beyond 
Paxton 's  sight.  Once  they  were  free  from  his  in- 
terference they  could  trust  to  a  chance  opening 
and  Break  through.  If  no  such  opening  offered 
itself  they  could  at  least  do  their  best  to  force 
Roche  and  his  men  to  come  at  them  one  at  a  time. 

A  half  dozen  quick  strokes  brought  them  out  of 
Paxton 's  sight.  They  knew  that  from  the  changed 
tone  of  Paxton 's  instructions.  But  almost  at  the 
same  instant  as  they  gained  this  advantage,  Kirk, 
from  his  position  in  the  bow  of  the  canoe,  saw  the 
three  dark  shapes  on  the  water  directly  ahead  of 
him.  They  were  spread  out  in  a  manner  that 
made  it  practically  impossible  to  get  round  one 
end  of  the  line.  Confident  that  they  had  not  been 
observed  as  yet,  they  ceased  paddling  and  watched 
the  movements  of  the  other  canoes.  They  were 
coming  down  directly  on  top  of  them  as  if  led  by 
some  instinct  in  the  darkness. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TKAIL  223 

the  left,"  Kirk  whispered,  "and  straight 


at 

A  shout  arose  from  the  other  canoes  at  the  first 
dip  of  their  paddles.  They  were  discovered  and 
would  have  to  fight  it  out. 

Following  Kirk's  directions  precisely,  Tuck 
kept  the  canoe  pointed  straight  towards  the  dark 
shadow  at  the  extreme  left,  glancing  cautiously 
from  time  to  time  at  the  movements  of  the  one  in 
the  centre  and  the  one  on  the  right.  They  had 
already  gained  some  advantage  as  a  result  of 
their  greater  speed  and  the  decisiveness  with 
which  they  had  moved.  So  long  as  they  were  able 
to  force  the  fight  the  others  would  have  to  take 
their  positions  accordingly.  Instead  of  falling  back 
to  give  their  companions  an  opportunity  of  coming 
around  into  position  to  assist,  the  canoe  towards 
which  they  were  hurrying  moved  farther  away 
from  the  centre  and  widened  the  gap.  For  a  mo- 
ment it  appeared  to  Kirk  as  if  the  opening  would 
become  large  enough  to  give  them  a  chance  to 
break  through.  But  just  as  he  thought  of  chang- 
ing his  tactics  the  centre  canoe  closed  in  suddenly 
and  the  voice  of  Phil  Roche  cursed  the  men  in  the 
other  canoe  and  ordered  them  back. 

But  the  men  in  the  canoe  on  the  left  saw  what 
neither  Kirk  nor  Phil  Roche  for  the  moment  saw. 
Behind  them  and  only  a  few  yards  away  another 
canoe  was  coming  out  of  the  darkness.  Just  as 
Roche  swore  a  second  time,  KirK  saw  the  canoe 
with  two  men  in  it  creeping  up  gradually  into  the 


224  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

gap.  His  first  thought  was  that  this  was  a  fourth 
canoe  with  Paxton's  men  in  it,  but  Eoche's  ex- 
clamation corrected  that  impression.  Kirk's  next 
guess  was  correct — old  Dags  was  in  the  stern  of 
the  canoe  with  one  of  the  camp  hands  in  the  bow. 

* '  Go  on — straight  ahead ! ' '  Kirk  cried  to  Tuck 
and  the  two  canoes  bore  down  upon  the  men  on  the 
left  with  Eoche's  canoe  following  some  thirty  or 
forty  yards  behind. 

Eealizing  the  difficulty  of  their  position  with  a 
canoe  attacking  them  on  each  flank  and  Eoche's 
assistance  too  far  off  to  be  of  any  immediate  value, 
the  men  in  the  canoe  towards  which  Kirk  was  rac- 
ing chose  a  course  straight  away  from  the  others 
and  began  paddling  furiously  to  escape  the  attack. 
But  Kirk  and  Dags  had  gained  their  full  speed 
before  they  had  decided  upon  their  course  of  ac- 
tion. Within  a  half  dozen  yards  of  the  mart 
in  the  stern  of  the  canoe  Kirk  sent  his  paddle  down 
for  five  or  six  quick  strokes  that  brought  him 
within  reach.  There  was  really  no  fight  to  it  at 
all.  At  the  first  push  from  Kirk's  paddle  the 
men  sprawled  over  the  side  of  their  canoe,  their 
only  thought  being  to  extrciate  their  legs  as 
quickly  as  possible  from  beneath  the  thwarts  of 
the  canoe  and  take  to  the  water  with  their  limbs 
unhampered. 

Kirk  paused  long  enough  to  make  sure  that  both 
men  could  swim  and  then  turned  to  face  Eoche's 
canoe.  Dags  and  his  companion  made  the  turn  at 
the  same  moment  and  their  canoes  came  close 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  225 

enough  for  them  to  distinguish  each  other  quite 
clearly  in  the  darkness.  At  the  sight  of  the  two 
canoes  facing  him  and  ready  for  action,  Roche 
brought  his  own  canoe  to  a  standstill  suddenly 
and  waited  for  the  canoe  from  behind  to  come  up. 
The  four  canoes  moved  cautiously  across  the  gap 
that  separated  them.  Kirk  and  Dags  moved  apart 
slowly  and  their  opponents  followed  their  example. 
There  was  going  to  be  nothing  reckless  in  this 
fight.  Foot  by  foot  they  crept  closer,  the  man  in 
the  stern  of  each  canoe  doing  all  the  paddling, 
the  men  in  front  waiting  with  their  paddles  ready. 
Dags  and  his  opponents  engaged  first,  but  Roche 
was  so  close  now  that  Kirk  gave  the  old  fellow  no 
attention.  Behind  Roche  sat  Joe  Bedard  whose 
wizardry  as  a  canoeman  Kirk  and  Tuck  both  knew 
only  too  well.  Kirk  and  Roche  knelt  close  to  the 
bows  with  their  paddle  gripped  in  both  hands  and 
resting  across  the  gunwales.  The  canoes  were  of 
the  same  size  and  matched  well  for  shape.  When 
the  points  of  the  canoes  were  not  more  than  three 
feet  apart,  Roche  reached  forward  and  swung  his 
paddle  for  Kirk's  head.  Kirk  warded  the  blow 
with  his  own  paddle  and  dropping  the  blade  quick- 
ly, shot  it  forward  towards  the  nose  of  Roche's 
canoe.  At  the  same  moment  Tuck  gave  his  paddle 
a  vigorous  dip  and  Kirk  'braced  himself  for  the 
shove.  But  Roche's  paddle  swung  back  and  down 
and  Kirk's  blow  glanced  along  the  side  of  the 
canoe.  The  action  had  sent  both  canoes  several 
feet  apart  and  when  Kirk  and  Roche  had  re- 


226  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

covered  themselves  sufficiently  to  make  another 
attempt  the  craft  lay  side  by  side  so  far  away 
from  each  other  that  for  the  next  few  moments 
the  fight  was  between  Tuck  and  Joe  Bedard  for 
position. 

Once  again  they  came  together  cautiously  and 
with  an  air  of  determination  to  end  the  fight. 
This  time  the  points  slipped  past  each  other  so 
closely  that  the  sides  of  the  two  canoes  rubbed. 
Tuck  and  Bedard  put  all  the  power  of  their  arms 
and  shoulders  into  keeping  the  two  canoes  to- 
gether while  Kirk  and  Roche  rose  up  in  their 
places.  The  first  exchanges  of  blows  with  the 
paddles  were  parried  and  realizing  that  they  were 
too  close  now  to  use  their  paddles,  the  two  men 
lurched  over  the  sides  of  the  canoes,  seized  each 
other  and  clung  together  in  a  fierce  struggle  to 
drag  each  other  into  the  water. 

With  footing  so  uncertain  the  fight  could  not 
continue  for  any  great  length  of  time.  It  might 
have  gone  on  for  minutes,  however,  for  the  men 
were  locked  so  firmly  in  each  other's  arms  that  the 
canoes  were  bound  together  as  if  they  had  been 
roped.  But  Tuck  reached  wide  and  drew  his 
paddle  straight  towards  him  from  the  side.  The 
bow  swung  out  and  drove  the  sharp  nose  into  the 
side  of  the  other  canoe.  Flipping  his  paddle 
quickly  to  the  other  side  he  drove  the  canoe  for- 
ward with  all  his  strength.  The  effect  was  not 
great  nor  was  it  immediate,  but  it  was  sufficient. 
Realizing  what  Tuck  was  doing  Kirk  struggled  to 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  227 

free  himself  from  Roche's  grip.  Then  lurching 
forward  suddenly  he  threw  his  whole  weight  high 
up  against  Roche's  shoulders.  The  hold  was 
broken,  the  balance  lost  and  Roche,  his  hands 
sprawling  before  him  went  over  with  the  canoe 
into  the  water.  Tuck  gave  his  paddle  a  few  back- 
ward strokes  and  withdrew  out  of  reach  of  the 
plunging  figures  in  the  water. 

Lying  back  in  the  darkness  was  the  canoe  with 
Dags  and  his  companion.  A  row-boat  was  already 
in  sight  coming  to  the  rescue  of  Paxton's  men. 

"Let's  go,"  said  Kirk,  and  the  two  canoes  shot 
away  in  the  darkness  together  leaving  Roche  and 
his  companions  clinging  to  their  canoes. 

For  the  next  few  minutes  while  they  paddled 
to  camp  they  reviewed  the  events  of  the  evening 
and  laughed  heartily  over  the  outcome. 

Standing  on  the  shore  Ruth  Mackay  awaited 
their  return  and  Kirk  felt  his  heart  sink  as  he 
realized  the  meaning  of  her  late  visit  to  the  camp. 
When  the  canoe  had  touched  the  shore  he  looked 
up  at  her  without  moving  and  waited  for  her  to 
speak. 

"John  Allen  is  dead."  she  announced  simply. 

And  Kirk  who  had  never  known  his  own  father 
felt  something  of  the  pangs  of  grief  he  might  have 
felt  had  he  been  the  son  of  old  John  Allen. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

JDLE  ALLEN  stood  in  the  doorway  of  her 
cabin  and  looked  out  at  the  early  morning. 
It  was  August  and  the  fresh  green  of  the  out- 
of-doors  shone  in  the  full  glory  of  sunlight.  She 
loved  those  summer  mornings.  They  were  hers. 
Sometimes  Ruth  Mackay  came  to  stay  the  night 
with  her  and  then  they  went  together  to  bathe 
in  the  creek  in  a  little  hidden  place  below  the  falls 
and  romped  until  noon  in  the  woods  or  dreamed 
lazily  on  the  rocks  beside  the  creek.  But  her 
mornings  were  seldom  shared  even  with  Ruth, 
and  no  one  else  ever  came  to  the  cabin  so  early  in 
the  day. 

She  was  up  even  earlier  than  usual  this  morn- 
ing. Some  stirring  in  her  veins  made  her  long  to 
be  out,  to  be  abroad  in  her  world  and  to  drink  in 
the  glory  of  it.  With  a  word  to  the  Indian  woman 
who  had  been  her  sole  companion  in  the  cabin  since 
the  death  of  old  John  Allen,  she  left  the  cabin 
and  calling  Snap  to  her,  raced  off  along  the  path 
to  the  top  of  the  rock.  Face  downwards  she  lay 
in  the  full  flood  of  the  sunlight  and  gazed  long  at 
the  swirling  water  breaking  against  the  rocks  be- 
low. A  little  pathway  dropped  down  from  above 
by  slow  degrees  to  the  level  of  the  water  beneath 

228 


THE  LOBSTICK;  TRAIL  229 

the  falls  and  ran  into  the  hidden  corner  that  held 
the  little  eddying  pool  in  which  she  took  her  morn- 
ing plunge.  Back  a  little  way  from  the  rock's 
head,  quiet  under  the  soft  shadows  of  the  trees 
that  leaned  above  it  was  the  sacred  spot  where 
they  had  laid  her  father.  Above  it,  like  a  great 
dark  sentinel  above  the  falls,  stood  a  lobstick  that 
had  been  trimmed  by  John  Mackay  to  mark  the 
place.  Jule  had  grown  to  look  upon  the  spot  now 
without  much  sadness.  It  made  her  wistful  some- 
times when  she  thought  of  the  hopes  that  lay 
buried  there.  But  she  thought  with  pride  of  her 
father's  faith  in  her. 

One  thing  only  disturbed  her  as  she  lay  and 
looked  at  the  water  tumbling  beneath  her.  Ever 
since  those  dark  days  in  June  when  her  father  had 
lingered  and  gone,  Phil  Koche  had  been  a  frequent 
visitor  in  the  evenings.  Often  he  had  come  when 
Ruth  was  there,  and  sometimes  Joe  Bedard  came 
too.  Often,  too,  whether  by  design  or  accident 
she  never  knew,  Bedard  and  Euth  went  off  to- 
gether and  she  found  herself  alone  with  Phil 
Eoche.  She  didn't  like  the  idea  of  Euth's  being 
thrown  into  the  company  of  Joe  Bedard.  Once 
she  mentioned  it  but  Euth's  black  eyes  deepened 
and  Jule  was  reminded  again  of  the  mixed  blood 
that  flowed  in  her  veins.  Her  feeling  for  Phil 
Eoche,  however,  caused  her  much  uneasiness.  Was 
she  foolish  to  close  her  heart  to  the  appeals  of  a 
man  who,  after  all,  had  much  that  the  youth  in  her 
admired?  He  was  strong,  he  was  clean  and  he 


230  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

had  acted  fairly.  Not  once  had  he  referred  to  the 
affair  of  the  previous  summer,  or  showed  any  hint 
of  his  dislike  for  what  she  had  done.  And  yet, 
something  was  wanting,  something  too  subtle  for 
her  power  of  analysis  to  discern.  Sometimes  she 
had  felt  that  something  when  she  saw  Kirk  Bran- 
der  going  about  among  his  men  at  the  Micmac. 
But  he  was  of  the  outside,  he  was  for  Marion 
Curtis  and  the  difficult  ways  of  that  other  world 
that  she  did  not  know. 

Slowly  she  crawled  forward  and  allowed  her 
body  to  slip  over  the  edge  of  the  rock.  Laughing 
at  Snap  who  stood  whining  above  her  she  let  her- 
self down  to  a  lower  ledge.  When  Snap  turned 
and  raced  up  the  shore  to  where  the  pathway 
started  down  towards  the  pool,  she  scrambled 
quickly  from  one  narrow  ledge  to  another  down 
the  face  of  the  rock  in  a  mad  race  to  reach  the 
bottom  ahead  of  Snap.  Her  pulse  bounded  with 
excitement  as  she  heard  the  dog's  bark  and  she 
became  almost  reckless  in  her  haste.  Four  feet 
from  the  pathway  that  skirted  the  water's  edge 
she  leaped  down  just  as  Snap  broke  round  a  jut- 
ting ledge  of  rock  and  the  two  raced  along  to- 
gether to  the  pool. 

Five  minutes  later  she  plunged  into  the  eddy 
and  struggled  gloriously  against  the  swirling  cur- 
rent. On  the  rock  from  which  she  had  taken  her 
plunge,  Snap  lay  stretched  out,  his  front  paws  al- 
most touching  the  water.  Fifteen  minutes  of 
plunging  and  laughing  and  she  was  out  again  on 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  231 

the  rock  beside  Snap,  shaking  her  hair  free  in  the 
morning  air. 

When  she  reached  the  upper  end  of  the  pathway 
on  her  way  back  to  the  cabin  she  stopped  sudden- 
ly. Standing  in  the  doorway  of  the  cabin  was  Kirk 
Brander,  waiting,  evidently,  for  her  return.  She 
gathered  her  hair  together  in  her  two  hands  and 
shook  it  free  again  in  the  warm  sunlight.  Then 
walking  slowly  towards  the  cabin  she  twisted  her 
hair  slowly  into  a  knot  at  the  back  of  her  neck 
where  she  held  it  with  one  hand  as  she  came  to 
the  doorway. 

There  was  something  shy,  almost  self-conscious 
in  her  manner  that  Kirk  could  not  help  detect  at 
once.  He  looked  at  her  and  smiled. 

"I  like  it  better  the  way  it  was,"  he  said  glan- 
cing at  her  hair. 

There  was  no  suggestion  of  familiarity  in  his 
voice  or  manner.  He  was  simply  expressing  an 
opinion,  quietly  and  almost  without  knowing  what 
he  did,  and  Jule  was  far  from  feeling  any  dis- 
pleasure at  his  words.  A  mischievous  impulse 
seized  her  suddenly  and  she  took  her  hand  from 
the  knot  and  let  her  hair  fall  in  -a  riotous  shower 
about  her  shoulders.  At  the  same  moment  her 
self-consciousness  vanished  and  she  laughed  as 
she  stood  before  him  and  looked  up  at  his  bronzed 
face  and  his  quiet  eyes  grown  suddenly  serious. 

"I  thought  you  were  much  too  busy  to  visit  your 
neighbors,"  she  said  without  realizing  the  full 
significance  of  her  words. 


232  T£E  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

' '  During  the  day — yes, ' '  Kirk  replied.  ' '  In  the 
evenings  when  I  have  time,  my  neighbors  haven't 
any." 

She  knew  he  had  Phil  Roche  in  mind  as  he  spoke 
and  wondered  vaguely  whether  he  was  serious  or 
bantering.  When  she  looked  at  him,  however,  his 
face  was  very  serious.  She  felt  herself  prompted 
to  make  a  mischievous  reply. 

"You  prefer  to  do  your  fighting  on  water  rather 
than  on  land,"  she  suggested. 

Kirk's  face  brightened  and  he  laughed  in  spite 
of  himself. 

"I  don't  mind  the  fighting,"  he  admitted.  "I 
rather  like  it,  in  fact,  but  I  like  to  think  there's 
some  chance  of  winning." 

She  walked  past  him  and  went  into  the  cabin 
and  Kirk  followed  her  in.  He  sat  down  on  a  small 
bench  beside  the  door  while  Jule  sat  in  to  the  table 
where  her  breakfast  awaited  her. 

1 1 1  'm  going  to  eat  my  breakfast, ' '  she  said, ' '  I  'm 
as  hungry  as  a  wolf." 

"Go  ahead,"  Kirk  replied.  "I  have  only  a 
minute  to  stay  anyhow.  I  had  a  letter  from  my 
uncle  in  last  night's  mail  and  he  and  Marion  Cur- 
tis are  coming  to  the  Micmac  for  a  few  days.  I 
really  came  over  to  find  out  if  you  could  put  her 
up  here  for  her  stay.  "We  can  look  after  Henry 
Tyne  all  right  but  we  have  no  accommodation  for 
a  lady." 

Jule  called  to  her  Indian  woman  and  told  her 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  233 

the  news.  The  only  response  was  a  smile  that 
spread  over  her  face  and  a  granted,  "Huh!" 

"Tell  her  we'll  be  pleased  to  have  her  come  and 
stay  with  us  as  long  as  she  wishes  to,"  Jnle  said 
by  way  of  interpreting  her  housekeeper's  res- 
ponse. 

"That'll  be  fine,"  Kirk  replied  getting  up  and 
moving  to  go.  "We'll  make  your  losses  good — 
pay  you  for  broken  dishes  and  so  on." 

Jule  smiled.  ' '  This  will  be  my  chance  to  replace 
some  cracked  cups  and  a  chipped  saucer  or  two 
that  I  have  had  for  weeks,"  she  said. 

"Your  list  will  be  checked  over  very  carefully," 
he  reminded  her  as  he  stepped  to  the  doorway. 
"But  I  must  be  getting  back." 

"Perhaps  we'll  see  you  occasionally  when  our 
city  visitor  comes,"  Jule  remarked  pointedly,  get- 
ting up  and  going  to  the  door. 

There  was  something  in  Kirk  Brander  that  al- 
most angered  her.  Even  when  he  was  joking  he 
seemed  casual  and  disinterested.  When  he  spoke 
of  his  work  it  was  as  if  he  had  no  other  care  in  the 
world.  Instinctively  she  knew  that  she  could  not 
be  casual  in  her  regard  for  him  and  it  vexed  her. 

"The  city  visitor  will  not  be  permitted  to  inter- 
fere with  my  work  any  more  than  my — my  coun- 
try neighbors,"  he  retorted. 

"It  must  be  wonderful  to  Have  worE  of  that 
kind,"  she  smiled. 

Jule  knew  that  she  was  acting  tEe  part  of  a 
young  coquette  and  yef  it  pleased  her  more  than 


234  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

anything  that  had  ever  occurred  between  her  and 
this  strange  mixture  of  seriousness  and  good 
humor  that  she  had  come  to  know  as  Kirk 
Brander.  But  if  coquetry  was  pleasing  to  her  it 
seemed  out  of  place  to  Kirk.  He  paid  no  heed  to 
the  little  thrust  in  her  last  remark.  The  smile 
passed  from  his  countenance  and  he  turned  to  face 
her  squarely. 

"  Jule  Allen/'  he  said  slowly  and  in  a  voice  from 
which  all  the  pleasantry  had  gone,  "I'd  like  to 
come  here  sometime.  I'd  like  to  see  you  and  talk 
to  you.  It  isn't  my  work  that  keeps  me  away. 
And  it  isn't  our — our  city  visitor.  And  it  isn't 
Phil  Boehe." 

She  stood  in  the  doorway  looking  at  him  and 
waiting.  Though  he  paused  she  did  not  speak. 
She  felt  sure  she  knew  what  was  in  his  mind,  had 
been  in  his  mind,  in  fact,  ever  since  the  day  they 
had  met  on  the  hillside. 

"And  I'm  not  stubborn,"  he  put  in  suddenly 
as  if  he  had  forgotten  to  include  it  in  his  last 
speech. 

"I  half  believe  you  are,"  Jule  replied.  She  suc- 
ceeded in  playing  the  part  she  had  set  out  to  play 
but  in  her  heart  a  vague  feeling  of  resentment  was 
rising. 

Kirk  looked  from  her  to  the  dog  that  lay  a  few 
feet  away  in  the  shade  of  the  cabin  wall.  "I  had 
a  friend  once,  Jule  Allen,"  he  said  boldly,  "the 
first  real  friend  I  ever  had  in  this  country — and 
the  best  friend  I  ever  had  anywhere.  That  dog 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  235 

was  his  dog,"  lie  said,  pointing  to  Snap.  "Some 
day,  when  I  have  found  out  where  you  got  him, 
I'll  tell  you  what  happened  to  my  friend.  I  know 
you  don't  know  anything  about  it.  Once  I  asked 
you  a  question  about  that  dog.  Perhaps  I  should- 
n't have  asked  it.  I'm  not  quite  sure  even  yet. 
But  you  refused  to  answer.  Well — I'm  going  to 
find  out  if  it  takes  five  years." 

Jule's  eyes  had  lost  all  their  witchery.  In  its 
place  were  the  dark  fires  mingled  of  pride  and 
anger. 

' '  And  you  '11  never  find  it  out  from  me — never ! ' ' 
she  retorted  angrily. 

"Just  now  I  can't  feel  easy  coming  over  here," 
Kirk  continued.  "When  I've  got  that  all  cleared 
up,  Jule  Allen " 

She  interrupted  him  quickly.  "I'll  ask  you  to 
stay  away." 

"I'll  come  anyhow,"  Kirk  replied  and  his  good- 
humored  smile  was  returning. 

"Then  I'll  order  you  off  the  property." 

Kirk's  laugh  placed  her  at  a  most  uncomfort- 
able disadvantage.  ' '  Then  I  '11  buy  the  property, ' ' 
he  boasted. 

"You'll  not!"  she  flashed,  and  turned  back  into 
the  cabin. 

"Well,"  Kirk  commented,  "we  certainly  seem 
to  hit  it  off  well  together  whenever  we  do  meet." 

But  the  door  of  the  cabin  closed  on  his  words 
and  he  was  left  alone.  For  a  moment  he  stood 


236  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

smiling  to  himself  and  then  turned  back  towards 
the  camp. 

When  she  was  quite  sure  that  Kirk  had  left, 
Jnle  opened  the  door  of  her  cabin  again  and  let 
the  sunshine  stream  in.  Before  going  back  to  the 
table  she  stepped  ontside  and  glanced  furtively  in 
the  direction  of  the  trail  leading  to  the  Micmac. 
There  was  no  sign  of  Kirk  as  far  as  she  could  see. 
When  she  turned  back  again  into  the  cabin  she 
felt  like  laughing  to  herself. 

She  probably  would  have  done  eo  had  not  a 
sharp  bark  from  Snap  warned  her  that  someone 
was  coming.  Half  expecting  that  Kirk  Brander 
had  returned  she  checked  her  desire  to  laugh  and 
assumed  as  best  she  could  an  air  of  haughty  in- 
difference as  she  went  to  the  door.  Coming  down 
the  trail  from  a  little  way  up  the  creek  were 
Warren  Paxton  and  Phil  Boche.  Somehow  she 
resented  their  coming  just  then.  Paxton  she 
heartily  disliked.  As  for  Phil  Koche — she  just 
didn't  want  to  see  him.  She  turned  from  the  door- 
way and  going  back  again  into  the  cabin,  sat 
down  af  the  table.  She  had  all  the  appearance 
of  being  very  much  preoccupied  when  the  shadows 
of  the  two  men  darkened  the  doorway. 

She  looked  up  and  received  Paxton 's  smile. 

"I  hope  we  are  not  interrupting — so  early  in 
the  day,"  he  apologized. 

Phil  Roche  remained  in  the  background  and  al- 
lowed Paxton  to  enter  as  he  spoke.  Jule  got  up 
and  stood  beside  her  chair. 


THE  LOBSTJCK  TRAIL  237 

"I've  just  finished  my  breakfast,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "But  it's  all  right.  Yon  aren't  the  first 
caller  IVe  had  this  morning." 

"So?"  Paxton  raised  his  eyebrows  question- 
ingly.  "We  thought  we  would  have  the  honor  of 
being  first  on  the  ground.  But  sit  down,  Miss 
Allen,  and  go  on  with  your  breakfast.  Our  call  is 
very  informal — purely  business — and  needn't  dis- 
turb you  in  the  least." 

Jule  resumed  her  seat  and  continued  eating. 
Paxton  chose  the  small  bench  on  which  Kirk  had 
been  sitting  only  a  few  minutes  before,  and  sat 
down  with  his  hat  in  his  hand.  Phil  Koche  stood 
a  moment  in  the  doorway  and  then,  entering 
slowly,  sauntered  to  a  seat  near  Paxton. 

"You  won't  mind  if  I  talk  business  while  you 
eat  your  breakfast,  Miss  Allen?"  Paxton  began. 

"Not  at  all,"  Jule  rVplied  rather  shortly.  There 
was  something  so  unpleasant  in  the  prospect  of 
hearing  Paxton  talk  business  that  she  could  not 
help  her  abrupt  manner.  She  had  heard  him  talk 
business  before,  had  seen  him  sit  in  much  the  same 
attitude  before  her  father,  and  had  seen  her  fath- 
er's  face  grow  hard  as  he  listened  to  Paxton 's 
talk. 

"I  have  just  had  word  that  Henry  Tyne  is  on 
his  way  here — will  arrive  in  the  next  day  or  so,  in 
fact,"  Paxton  informed  her.  "IVe  come  over  to 
strike  a  little  bargain  with  you.  Marion  Curtis 
will  be  with  him  and  together  they  are  going  to 
make  another  bid  for  your  claims  here.  I  don't 


238  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

think  there 's  any  doubt  of  that.  I  happen  to  know 
pretty  well  the  position  Henry  Tyne  and  his  as- 
sociates are  facing  at  the  present  time.  The  Mic- 
mac  isn't  showing  up  as  they  hoped  it  would. 
Henry  Tyne  is  going  to  stake  everything  on  this 
one  throw — he  won't  live  long  enough  to  play  an- 
other game  of  this  size.  If  he  gets  hold  of  the 
White  Squaw  claims  it  will  help.  He's  bringing 
a  couple  of  men  with  him  to  make  an  exhaustive, 
perhaps  a  final,  report  on  the  showings  in  the  Mic- 
mac.  We  happen  to  know  pretty  well  now  what 
they  will  report.  The  last  month  has  shown 
pretty  well  where  the  high  grade  stuff  is  going  to 
be  found." 

Jule  moved  a  little  impatiently.  "Perhaps  if 
yon  would  just  tell  me "  she  began. 

"Certainly,"  Paxton  submitted  apologetically. 
"Well,  this  is  my  proposition.  Tyne  and  I  are  in 
this  field  because  we  hope  to  make  money  out  of  it. 
It's  a  business  proposition,  Miss  Allen,  and  com- 
petition is  pretty  keen  these  days.  He  wants  this 
property — so  do  I.  He  can't  make  a  bid  that  I'm 
not  prepared  to  match.  But  he  may  come  to  you 
with  inducements  that  I  don't  know  anything 
about.  Contrary  to  my  intentions  or  wishes  in 
the  matter,  your  father  and  I  had  differences. 
That  was  unfortunate  and  I  have  always  regretted 
it.  I  regret  even  more  that  you  should  have  fallen 
heir  to  his  resentment  for  I  assure  you  I  harbor 
nothing  of  the  land.  Now,  then — I  have  had  cer- 
tain plans  in  mind  for  developing  water-power  on 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  239 

the  creek.  I  did  not  realize  at  the  time  that  you 
had  a— a  kind  of  sentiment  for  the  falls  that  made 
my  plans  extremely  objectionable  to  you.  Here's 
my  proposition,  Miss  Allen.  I  realize  you  will  not 
talk  business  to  me  concerning  the  White  Squaw 
claims.  All  right.  I  come  now,  not  to  ask  any- 
thing. I  want  to  make  you  an  offer.  I  shall  re- 
spect your  sentiment  for  the  falls  in  the  creek. 
It  may  be  a  little  hard  to  understand  but  I  don't 
ask  you  to  understand  it.  I  simply  respect  it. 
Out  of  consideration  for  that  sentiment  I  will 
leave  the  falls  just  as  they  are  as  long  as  you  re- 
fuse to  sell  to  Henry  Tyne.  Now,  I've  gone  a  long 
way  round  to  give  you  my  offer.  But  you  have  it. 
It's  simple  enough,  surely.  "What  is  your  answer?" 

Jule  had  finished  her  breakfast  while  Paxton 
was  speaking.  When  he  ceased  she  got  up  from 
the  table  and  walked  thoughtfully  to  the  open 
doorway  and  stood  in  the  sunshine.  She  made  a 
beautiful  picture  there  with  her  hair  loose  aboiit 
her  shoulders  and  the  sun  flooding  it  with  gold. 
Paxton  waited  for  her  to  answer  his  question. 

When  she  finally  spoke  she  continued  to  look  out 
of  doors,  but  her  words  came  slowly  and  very  de- 
liberately. "When  I  refuse  to  sell  the  White 
Squaw,  Mr.  Paxton, "  she  said,  "it  will  not  be 
because  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  take  away 
the  beauty  from  the  place  that  has  been  mine  for 
the  best  part  of  my  life.  The  first  man  who  lays 
a  hand  on  that— I  believe  I'd  kill  him.  If  I  sell 
the  White  Squaw  it  will  be  because  I  want  to  and 


240  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

I'll  choose  my  own  buyer.  I  shall  not  sell  to  yon — 
and  I  shall  not  sell  to  Henry  Tyne.  That  much  I 
know  now.  And  I  shall  not  change  my  mind. ' ' 

"You  are  your  father's  daughter,"  Paxton  re- 
marked, getting  up  from  his  seat  and  preparing 
to  leave.  "For  the  present,  at  any  rate,  I  can 
accept  that  understanding.  It  is  quite  agreeable 
to  me." 

Jule  stepped  out  in  order  to  allow  Paxton  to 
pass.  Phil  Roche  followed  immediately  and  the 
two  men  paused  for  a  moment  near  the  door. 

"I  have  to  go  on  down  and  leave  a  message  for 
John  Mackay,"  Paxton  said  to  Koche.  "You  can 
go  on  back  if  you  like,  or  wait  here  until  I  come 
back." 

He  bowed  to  Jule  and  went  off  along  the  path- 
way into  the  woods,  leaving  Roche  alone  with 
Jule.  They  exchanged  no  word  until  Paxton  was 
out  of  sight  and  hearing.  Then  Roche  turned  from 
looking  after  Paxton  and  faced  Jule  suddenly. 

"Brander  was  here  this  morning,"  he  said 
abruptly. 

Jule  saw  from  the  expression  on  his  face  that 
he  was  having  a  struggle  to  control  himself.  Her 
talk  with  Paxton  had  left  her  in  a  very  serious 
mood. 

"What  of  it?"  she  challenged. 

Roche  looked  at  her  for  some  time  before  he 
spoke. 

"I'm  goin*  to  be  serious  with  you,  Jule  Allen," 
he  said  at  last. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  241 

Jule  turned  away  impatiently  and  walked  away 
towards  the  rock  above  the  falls.  Eoche  watched 
her  from  'before  the  cabin,  his  anger  rising  as  the 
distance  between  them  grew.  He  watched  Snap 
get  up  from  his  place  near  the  doorway  and  trot 
off  to  join  her.  Then  with  a  mnttered  ejaculation 
he  followed  and  came  behind  her  where  she  stood 
looking  from  the  top  of  the  rock  towards  the  lake 
shining  in  the  distance. 

"You're  goin'  to  listen  to  me,"  he  said  sudden- 
ly. "You  think  I  care  for  these  things — Paxton 
and  the  rest  of  them?  I'm  here  because  you're 
here — because  I  want  to  take  you  away  with  me. 
I've  waited — an'  I  can  wait — but  I've  got  to  know 
you're  goin'  to  come." 

There  was  a  note  of  pleading  in  his  voice  that 
almost  touched  Jule's  heart.  She  turned  to  him 
quietly. 

"But  I  have  told  you,"  she  reminded  him,  "and 
you  know.  I  can 't  help  it  if —if  I  don 't  feel  as  you 
want  me  to." 

"But  I  could  make  yon  feel "  he  began  to 

protest. 

"No  one  could  do  that,"  she  replied. 

Eoche's  manner  changed  instantly.  "No?"  he 
retorted.  "We'll  see.  You  got  away  last  summer 
because  I  let  you  go.  You  won't  do  that  again. 
I'm  goin'  to  stay  here  until  we  go  away  together. 
An'  I'm  goin'  to  teach  you  to  feel  the  way  I  want 
you  to  feel— teach  you  before  someone  else 
starts." 


242  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

She  moved  back  from  him.  "  You  can't  teach  me 
that,  Phil  Eoche,"  she  said  defiantly,  "and  you 
know  it." 

When  he  took  a  step  towards  her  she  spoke  a 
word  to  the  dog  and  seizing  him  by  the  collar 
pulled  him  towards  her  and  crouched  behind  him. 
The  dog  showed  his  teeth  and  Eoche  paused. 

"Come  another  step/'  she  threatened,  "and 
I '11  let  him  loose." 

Eoche 's  smile  was  cynical.  He  stooped  a  little 
and  put  out  his  hand  speaking  gently  to  the  dog  as 
he  did  so.  Snap 's  ears  dropped  suddenly  and  his 
snarl  vanished.  Eoche  took  another  step  to- 
wards them. 

"Snap!"  Jule  cried. 

At  once  the  dog's  teeth  bared  in  a  white  snarl. 
Again  Eoche  stopped  suddenly. 

"Lie  down,  you  fool!"  he  commanded  and  the 
dog  turned  its  face  towards  Jule,  licking  his  jaws 
uneasily  and  whining. 

For  the  next  few  minutes  Jule  and  Eoche  bat- 
tled to  control  the  dog's  mood  and  then,  without 
warning,  Eoche  stepped  suddenly  close  and  hurled 
the  dog  to  one  side.  Jule  sprang  back  from  him 
and  stood  close  to  the  edge  of  the  rock. 

"Come  away  from  there,"  Eoche  ordered. 

But  Jule,  white  with  anger,  faced  him.  "Phil 
Eoche, ' '  she  said, ' '  go  away  from  here.  Go  away ! 
I'm  not  afraid  of  you.  I  thought  you  were  a  man 
— I  hoped  you  had  something  in  you  that  was 
straight.  But  I  know— I  know  now."  She  pointed 


THE  LOBSTICK  TEAIL  243 

at  Snap  who  was  standing  at  Roche's  legs..  "You 
gave  me  that  dog  because  you  couldn't  keep  him. 
You  stole  him— I  wouldn't  believe  it,  but  I  know 
it." 

Roche  grinned  and  looked  at  her  darkly.  "So 
Brander's  been  talkin',"  he  said.  "Well,  we'll 
fix  that/' 

He  seized  the  dog  by  the  collar  and  lifting  him 
from  the  ground  stepped  towards  the  edge  of  the 
rock.  Jule's  scream  awoke  the  savage  instincts 
in  the  dog.  With  a  sudden  gathering  up  of  his 
shaggy  body  and  a  twisting  of  his  powerful  neck 
he  freed  himself  from  the  grip  that  held  him  and 
his  jaws  closed  upon  Roche's  wrist  in  a  vicious 
snap.  With  an  oath  Roche  leaped  back  and  the 
dog  dropped  to  the  ground,  his  angry  fangs  bared 
and  his  hair  bristling. 

Jule  stepped  close  to  the  dog  and  crouched  again 
behind  him,  her  two  hands  gripping  his  collar. 

'  *  Go  away  from  here, ' '  she  commanded.  ' '  You 
can't  frighten  us.  Go  away,  or  I'll  let  nim 
loose!" 

Roche  looked  at  his  wounded  wrist  and  laid  a 
hand  over  it.  "Sure,  I'll  go,"  he  said.  "I'll  go — 
but  I'm  comrn'  back,  and  when  I  do  the  dog  won't 
count." 

He  turned  away  slowly  and  took  the  pathway 
leading  along  the  creek  to  where  the  canoe  was 
waiting  close  to  the  water. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AT  noon  the  next  day  Henry  Tyne  and 
Marion  Cnrtis  arrived.  Kirk's  first 
glimpse  of  his  uncle  was  from  the  window 
of  the  sampling  room  where,  with  Tuck  Koberts, 
he  was  crushing  samples  from  a  new  body  of  ore 
they  had  drifted  into  during  the  week.  Henry 
Tyne,  accompanied  by  the  two  engineers  he  had 
brought  in  with  him,  was  emerging  from  the  woods 
along  the  trail  from  Ripple  Creek.  Kirk  looked 
at  the  approaching  figures  absent-mindedly  a 
moment,  so  engrossed  was  he  in  the  sampling  of 
the  new  ore,  and  then  suddenly  awakening,  he 
dropped  the  two  pans  holding  the  sample  he  had 
just  divided  and  ran  to  the  door.  From  the  open 
doorway  he  looked  down  the  slope  towards  the 
three  approaching  figures. 

"Here  they  are,  Tuck  I"  he  cried  and  rushing 
out,  hurried  away  to  meet  his  uncle. 

Henry  Tyne  did  not  appear  to  recognize  Kirk 
until  they  had  come  within  a  few  yards  of  each 
other.  Then  suddenly  the  old  man's  face  lighted 
up  and  he  almost  ran  towards  Kirk  with  both 
hands  outstretched. 

"Oh,  you  husky  young  devil!"  Henry  Tyne 

244 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  245 

panted  under  the  vigorous  reception  his  prodigal 
ward  was  giving  him. 

But  Kirk  could  say  nothing  in  reply.  After  the 
first  words  of  greeting,  he  held  his  uncle's  hands 
in  his  and  looked  at  him  without  speaking.  If 
five  years  in  the  open  had  meant  the  storing  up  of 
strength  and  energy  in  his  young  frame,  they  had 
brought  Henry  Tyne  so  close  to  the  end  of  his 
physical  resources  that  Kirk  scarcely  recognized 
his  uncle  in  the  man  that  stood  before  him. 

"What  have  they  done  to  you!"  Kirk's  heart 
framed  the  question  a  half  dozen  times  as  he 
stood  looking  at  his  uncle  but  he  hesitated  to  put 
it  into  words.  He  heard  his  uncle's  voice  intro- 
ducing the  two  men  who  had  come  to  look  over  the 
.mine,  but  he  remembered  later  that  the  men's 
voices,  even  the  grip  of  their  hands,  had  not  been 
sufficient  to  bring  him  to  himself.  He  could  think 
only  of  the  old  man  whose  arm  he  held  as  they 
walked  together  to  the  camp  and  of  that  other 
man,  the  man  who  had  sat  across  from  him  at  the 
breakfast  table  five  years  before. 

"Poor  old  Unk!"  he  said  aloud  as  they  walked 
slowly  up  the  hill. 

Henry  Tyne  smiled  a  little.  "I  guess  they've 
mussed  me  up  a  bit  since  you  saw  me  last,"  he 
commented. 

"If  I'd  known,"  Kirk  replied,  "I'd  have  gone 
back  to  you  long  ago.  I  'd  never  have  left. ' ' 

"You'd  have  left,  all  right,  you  young  hot- 
head," Henry  Tyne  protested.  "And  you'd  better 


246  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

leave  out  this  eleventh  hour  seeking  forgiveness. 
It  doesn't  suit  you.  Besides,  anything  that  would 
make  a  man  of  you  is — is  worth  it.  You  look  like 
a  young  giant,  Kirk,  and  God  knows  you  hadn't 
much  to  go  on.  Have  you  developed  any  sense 
with  all  your  muscle." 

Kirk  laughed.  "Too  much  ever  to  take  an  old 
man  at  his  word  again, "  he  retorted.  "Next  time 
you  tell  me  to  get  out — I  '11  stick ! ' ' 

"You  thought  you  were  putting  one  over  on  the 
old  man,  didn't  you?"  Henry  Tyne  chuckled. 
"Well,  I  hope  you've  paid  for  it,  you  young 
profligate." 

"I  have,  Unk,"  Kirk  confessed  and  they  entered 
Kirk's  cabin  together. 

They  found  Dags  in  the  cabin  drying  his  hands 
in  a  fbwel  as  they  entered.  * '  This  is  Dags,  Unk, ' ' 
Kirk  continued,  "my  self-appointed  guardian." 

The  two  men  shook  hands  cordially.  "Heard  of 
you  from  Marion  Curtis,"  Henry  Tyne  said.  "I've 
come  up  to  give  you  a  hand  with  this  young  scrub 
nephew  of  mine." 

"I  wish  you'd  take  the  job  off  my  hands,"  Dags 
returned. 

"Settle  that  after  you've  had  something  to 
eat,"  Kirk  interrupted.  "There  goes  the  gong." 

"How's  every  thing  in  the  shafts  to-day,  Dags?" 
Kirk  asked  as  they  made  their  way  to  the  cook- 
house a  few  minutes  later. 

Dags  did  not  reply  at  once.   Kirk  glanced  at  him 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  247 

and  caught  the  half  troubled,  half -amused  ex- 
pression in  his  face. 

"Not  so  good,  eh?" 

"Six  men  stayed  in  their  bunks  this  morning," 
Dags  announced.  "What  did  turn  out  would  V 
been  better  if  they  'd  stayed  in  bed.  When  a  man 's 
drunk  he  can't  do  anything,  but  when  he's  got  a 
hang-over  he 's  no  good  an '  he 's  ugly  besides. ' ' 

"That's  the  third  time  in  three  weeks,"  Kirk 
commented. 

"An'  it's  goin'  to  happen  again,"  Dags  de- 
clared, "unless  we  get  the  man  that's  dishin'  the 
stuff  out.  It  sure  has  some  poke  to  it.  For  home- 
brew it's  got  anything  beat  I  ever  saw.  They 
don't  get  back  into  shape  for  three  days.  Some 
o'  them  haven't  been  real  sober  for  two  weeks." 

"And  you  haven't  got  a  line  on  who's  bringing 
it  in?" 

"Just  who  don't  matter  much,"  Dags  replied. 
"It's  bein'  made  across  the  lake  an'  peddled  in. 
We're  goin'  to  have  some  time  gettin'  it." 

For  an  hour  or  more  Kirk  and  Henry  Tyne  sat 
at  the  table  in  the  cook-house,  eating  leisurely 
and  giving  each  other  hurried  accounts  of  what 
had  happened  during  the  five  years  of  their 
reparation.  When  they  left  the  table  they  went 
together  to  Kirk's  cabin  and  sat  down  for  a  half 
hour  of  leisure  over  their  pipes.  Marion  Curtis 
had  stayed  at  Jule  Allen's  cabin  and  although 
Kirk  was  anxious  to  see  her,  he  wished  to  hear 
first  of  all  from  his  uncle's  own  lips  something  of 


248  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

the  condition  of  their  affairs.  When  Dags  had 
taken  the  two  engineers  away  with  him  to  visit  one 
of  the  shafts  in  which  work  was  going  on,  Kirk 
.settled  into  a  chair  opposite  Henry  Tyne  and  pre- 
pared to  ask  the  question  that  was  uppermost  in 
his  mind  at  the  moment.  But  his  uncle  anticipated 
him. 

"You're  wondering  just  where  we  stand,"  he 
said,  half  musing  as  he  looked  at  Kirk  and  drew 
slowly  at  his  pipe. 

"Perhaps  you'd  better  not  talk  much  about 
that,  Unk,  until  you've  had  a  little  while  to  rest," 
Kirk  suggested.  "The  trip  in  must  have  tired 
you." 

Henry  Tyne  cleared  his  voice  a  little  nervously. 
"It  did  tire  me,  Kirk,"  he  admitted,  "but  not  so 
much  as  that.  You've  got  to  know  all  there  is  to 
know,  and  I  want  you  to  hear  it  from  me.  Marion 
will  tell  you  but  there  are  a  few  things  we  might 
just  as  well  face  together." 

Kirk  had  had  an  uneasy  presentiment  for  some 
weeks,  a  feeling  that  everything  was  not  well  with 
Henry  Tyne.  Now,  in  the  tone  of  his  uncle's 
voice,  in  the  expression  of  his  face,  and  in  the 
words  themselves  there  was  a  meaning  that  made 
his  heart  sink. 

"You've  done  good  work  here,  Kirk,"  Henry 
Tyne  went  on,  "good  work — and  work  that  de- 
serves to  be  rewarded  with  success.  But  the  truth 
is,  the  thing  is  too  big  for  me,  it  has  got  beyond 
me.  I've  got  together  just  about  everything  I  can, 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  249 

and  it  isn't  enough.  It  would  have  been  all  right  if 
I  'd  had  the  fight  in  me  that  I  once  had.  But  that 's 
gone,  Kirk,  and  I  may  as  well  admit  it  to  you. 
P'axton  and  his  gang  have  closed  every  door.  I  Ve 
banked  with  old  man  Wilton,  for  example,  for 
years.  He  stood  behind  me  when  I  hadn't  a  cent 
of  my  own.  But  we  talked  together  the  other  day. 
Wilton's  getting  on  in  years.  He  may  be  retired 
any  day.  And  Wilton  wants  to  retire  with  a  clean 
record.  He  would  advance  money  on  good 
securities  but — well,  a  copper  mine  that's  all 
under  the  ground  isn't  exactly  a  safe  security  for 
a  bank  manager  to  work  on." 

Henry  Tyne  paused  a  minute  and  puffed  slowly 
at  his  pipe. 

"And  that  isn't  the  only  thing,  Kirk,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  Paxton 's  gang  have  bought  up  that  ridge 
at  the  divide.  We  must  have  a  railway  here  if 
we're  going  to  develop  the  property  at  a  profit. 
We  can't  lug  all  this  stuff  out  by  barge,  handle 
it  four  or  five  times  and  then  ship  it  out  to 
make  it  pay.  The  company  was  ready  to 
begin  their  survey  just  as  soon  as  we  closed 
the  deal.  But  they're  not  going  to  pay  by 
the  square  foot  for  a  right-of-way.  And  Paxton 
has  that  staked  off  in  gold  claims.  The  fact  is, 
Paxton  has  been  out  for  my  scalp  ever  since  I 
cleaned  him  out  in  Consolidated  Pulp  four  years 
ago.  He  was  beaten  then  and  he's  been  waiting 
ever  since  for  a  chance  to  even  up  the  score.  I'm 
not  squealing— it's  in  the  game.  He  couldn't 


250  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

get  back  at  me  while  I  was  going  strong.  He's 
willing  to  wait  till  I'm  old  and  the  fight's  gone  out 
of  me.  He's  got  the  idea  I'm  about  ripe  enough 
to  drop  now  anytime!  and  he's  making  a  big 
stroke/' 

"Paxton  can't  put  yon  out!"  Kirk  interrupted 
suddenly. 

Henry  Tyne  smiled  a  little.  *  *  Paxton  has  timed 
everything  pretty  well,  Kirk,"  he  replied.  "He 
knows  I'm  done.  I 'm  up  here  now  to  play  my  last 
card — and  he  knows  that,  too." 

"Has  Marion  Curtis  given  up,  too?"  Kirk 
asked. 

He  could  not  associate  any  idea  of  defeat  with 
Marion  Curtis.  On  the  other  hand,  however,  he 
haS  never  thought  of  Henry  Tyne  admitting  de- 
feat. 

"Marion  Curtis  doesn't  tell  all  she  knows,"  the 
old  man  replied.  "I  believe  she  has  some  plans  of 
her  own  that  she  wants  to  try  as  a  last  resort.  I've 
come  in  to  see  Paxton.  If  we  can  meet  on  some 
kind  of  a  fair  deal,  we  '11  withdraw  and  leave  him 
on'the  ground.  If  not — it'll  be  for  Marion  to  fight 
it  out  with  Paxton.  I'll  look  on." 

"I'll  not  look  on— I'll  fight!"  Kirk  protested. 

"I'd  like  you  the  better  for  that,  Kirk,  if  there 
was  any  way  out  of  it,  or  any  hope  of  winning  in 
the  end.  "What  I'd  rather  see  you  do  would  be  to 
leave  this  God-forsaken  place,  a  thousand  miles 
from  nowhere,  ano^come  out  with  us.  We'll  be 
able  to  start  you  at  something  where  you  can  live 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  251 

like  a  human  being  in  a  civilized  community  that'll 
offer  a  young  man  a  future." 

Some  hidden  resentment  sprang  unbidden  to  the 
surface  as  Kirk  heard  his  uncle's  description  of 
the  country  as  "God-forsaken."  He  glanced 
through  the  open  doorway  at  the  smooth  surface 
of  the  lake,  rimmed  with  jagged  spruce  and  dotted 
wfth  islands,  and  above,  the  clear  blue  of  the  after- 
noon sky  flecked  with  bits  of  white  cloud.  Henry 
Tyne  had  spoken  slander.  Kirk  forced  back  the 
words  that  came  suddenly  to  mind.  He  got  up 
from  his  chair  a  little  impatiently  and  tapped  his 
pipe  lightly  on  the  edge  of  the  stove. 

"There's  no  accounting  for  tastes,  Unk,"  he 
said  casually.  "Let  me  take  you  down  and  show 
you  over  the  works." 

They  spent  the  afternoon  leisurely  going  over 
the  property,  inspecting  the  work  itself,  visiting 
for  a  few  minutes  in  the  deepest  shaft  where  the 
water  trickled  down  the  walls  faintly  visible  in 
the  light  from  the  little  carbide  lamps  they  car- 
ried. Henry  Tyne  stood  behind  the  men  at  their 
work  and  listened  to  the  roar  of  the  drill  working 
its  way  into  the  solid  rock  until  he  felt  the  chill 
of  the  place  reaching  him  through  the  heavy  rub- 
ber coat  Kirk  had  belted  about  him  before  they 
entered  the  shaft.  Later  they  walked  slowly  over 
the  property  itself,  skirted  the  lake  in  one  direc- 
tion and  noted  the  outcroppings  of  ore,  clambered 
up  the  hill  and  rested  here  and  there  in  the  shade 
jvhile  they  talked  more  often  about  matters  pf 

(17) 


252  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAII^ 

purely  personal  concern  than  about  the  enterprise 
upon  which  Henry  Tyne's  last  hopes  hnng. 

But  for  both  of  them  that  afternoon,  the  busi- 
ness of  tearing  the  wealth  out  of  the  secret  corners 
of  the  earth  was  as  nothing  compared  to  the  glory 
of  reunion.  And  that  glory  for  Kirk  Brander 
was  touched  with  deep  pity  for  the  worn  man  who 
had  been  his  ideal  of  strength  in  his  younger  days ; 
While  the  glory  for  Henry  Tyne  was  heightened 
with  pride  for  the  man  that  Kirk  Brander  had 
become. 

Late  that  evening  Kirk  sat  beside  Marion  Curtis 
on  the  high  rock  above  the  falls.  They  had  left 
Henry  Tyne  with  Jule  Allen  and  had  gone  there 
while  it  was  still  light  to  talk  together  over  what 
had  occurred  since  their  last  meeting.  Marion  had 
told  him  the  whole  story  of  Henry  Tyne's  strug- 
gles against  odds  that  daily  had  become  greater 
nntil  they  had  been  forced,  practically  to  accept 
defeat.  Kirk  had  told  everything  of  interest  that 
had  happened  during  the  summer  months  and  they 
had  finally  lapsed  into  a  long  silence. 

"But  I  can't  think  we're  done,"  Kirk  protested, 
seeking  almost  despairingly  for  some  ray  of  hope 
from  Marion  Curtis. 

"We're  not  done — no,"  she  replied.  "But  we 
can  exhaust  every  remaining  possibility  by  to- 
morrow night.  We  must  talk  to  Paxton.  Your 
uncle  and  you  will  have  to  do  that.  Our  friend 
Warren  wouldn't  see  me  for  a  minute.  There's 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  253 

just  a  possibility  of  his  being  willing  to  meet  us 
half  way  in  a  deal  to  consolidate  the  two  pro- 
perties. Failing  that  we  can  seek  an  extension  of 
the  option  with  John  Mackay." 

"He's  been  away  on  another  cruise,"  Kirk 
interrupted. 

"But  he's  expected  back  soon,  according  to 
Jule.  If  John  Mackay  proves  stubborn  there 's  not 
much  more  to  it." 

"But  there's  money  in  the  country — it  isn't  all 
behind  doors  that  Warren  Paxton  has  locked." 

"There  is  money,  yes,  and  investors  looking 
for  opportunities;  but  we  can't  raise  capital  on 
the  reports  we  have  had  to  date  from  the  Mic- 
mac.  We've  done  our  best  but  the  prospect  isn't 
rich  enough." 

"I  believe  two  more  weeks  would  have  done  it," 
Kirk  said  impatiently.  "That  new  body  of  ore  is 
starting  in  just  like  the  old  Lucky  Strike." 

"Get  John  Mackay  to  extend  the  option  another 
six  weeks  and  there  may  be  a  way  out,"  Marion 
Curtis  observed. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  again  as  they 
sat  and  thought  of  the  problem  they  were  facing. 

"How  about  the  White  Squaw?"  Kirk  asked. 
"It  should  be  good  for  a  few  thousand." 

"In  the  first  place  we'd  have  to  have  a  few 
thousand  to  buy  it,  and  even  if  we  had  we  couldn't 
get  it." 

"She  wouldn't  sell  to  me  but— has  Jule  Allen 
refused  to  sell  to  you?" 


254  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"Not  exactly,"  Marion  Curtis  replied  evasively. 

'  *  Not  exactly  f   What,  then  f ' ' 

"Jule  Allen  has  sold  the  White  Squaw,"  she 
announced. 

Kirk  sat  np  suddenly  and  looked  at  her,  "Sold 
the  White  Squaw? "  he  exclaimed. 

"It  was  a  secret,  but  I  thought  you  ought  to 
know.  Sooner  or  later  everyone  will  know  about 
it  anyhow.  And  don't  get  any  foolish  ideas  in  your 
head,  either — I  didn't  buy  it." 

"NotPaxton?" 

"  I  'd  like  to  know.  I  tried  to  find  out  but — Miss 
Jule  keeps  her  secrets  very  well." 

Kirk  put  his  head  in  his  hands.  "Jove,  this  is 
going  to  be  hard  to  take,"  he  said  regretfully. 
"It'll  just  about  do  for  Unk.  And  it's  going  to 
take  all  I've  got  in  me  to  stand  by  and  see  him 
take  it.  By  gad,  I  won't  do  it  either !  Something's 
got  to  break!" 

"Kirk  Brander,"  said  Marion  Curtis  pensively, 
"you'll  never  know  what  this  is  costing  me.  I'm 
not  afraid  of  being  beaten.  I  have  been  beaten 
before.  But  sometimes  we  have  dreams  that  mean 
as  much  to  us  as  life  itself.  I'm  going  to  tell  you 
now  what  you  will  know  sooner  or  later  anyhow. 
I  dreamed  of  putting  this  thing  over  in  a  big  way 
partly  for  the  satisfaction  of  beating  a  man  who 
has  been  out  to  beat  me  ever  since  I  have  known 
him;  partly,  too,  for  Henry  Tyne,  one  of  the  very 
few  men  I  have  known  who  play  the  business  game 
clean  and  above  the  table  all  the  time.  But  most 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  255 

of  all  I  wanted  the  satisfaction  of  doing  something 
really  big — in  a  big  way — to  prove  to  myself  that 
I  still  had  the  power  I  once  had — " 

She  hesitated  and  looked  down  at  the  water 
rushing  over  the  rocks  in  the  rapids.  Kirk  waited, 
not  knowing  whether  to  speak  or  remain  silent. 

' '  Oh,  don 't  yon  see  ?  "  she  broke  ont  finally.  ' '  I 
have  not  come  here  for  this — success  is  nothing — 
money  doesn't  mean  anything.  What  does  a  wo- 
man want  with  all  this — this  scrambling  after  dol- 
lars? There's  only  one  failure  in  the  life  of  any 
woman — only  one  defeat — and  I — I  can't — bah!" 

She  ceased  speaking  suddenly  and  got  to  her 
feet.  For  a  moment  she  stood  looking  at  the 
rapids,  her  hands  clasped  tightly  before  her.  Then 
turning  abruptly,  she  started  down  the  path. 

"Let's  go  in,"  she  said. 

Kirk  got  np  and  followed  her  down  the  path  to 
the  door  of  the  cabin  without  speaking.  When 
they  opened  the  door  and  entered  the  cabin  they 
found  Henry  Tyne  and  Jule  Allen  sitting  close  to 
each  other  by  the  table.  Before  them,  lying  open 
on  the  table,  was  a  large  catalogue  with  pictures 
of  a  score  of  varieties  of  perennial  blooms.  As 
Jule  looked  up  the  light  from  the  lamp  fell  full 
upon  Her  face  and  Kirk  saw  there  an  expression 
that  he  had  not  seen  since  the  days  when  she  used 
to  sit  beside  her  father. 

"I'm  choosing  my  next  year's  flowers,"  she 
said  cheerfully  as  Marion  Curtis  came  to  her  and 
looked  over  her  shoulder. 


256  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"By  Jove,  she's  going  to  make  a  gardener  out 
of  me,"  Henry  Tyne  laughed. 

Then  the  girl  and  the  old  man  langhed  together 
as  heartily  as  if  they  had  known  each  other  for 
years. 

When  Henry  Tyne  and  Kirk  left  the  cabin  a 
few  minntes  later,  Jnle  Allen  went  to  the  door  and 
stepped  outside  to  bid  them  good-night.  Kirk 
paused  a  moment  while  his  uncle  went  on. 

"Your  secret  is  out,  Jule  Allen,"  Kirk  accosted 
her  suddenly.  '  *  The  White  Squaw — " 

ftlt  was  no  secret,"  she  protested.  "You  might 
have  known  a  week  ago  if  you  had  asked  me." 

Kirk  smiled  at  her  pretty  deception.  "There's 
one  consolation — you  can't  order  me  off  the  pro- 
perty, anyhow." 

"I  istill  have  my  rights  as  tenant,"  she  count- 
ered. 

Kirk  turned  away.  "Look  out,"  he  warned. 
"I'm  going  to  turn  outlaw  one  of  these  days! 
Coming,  Unk!" 

He  hurried  off  to  join  Henry  Tyne  awaiting 
him  where  the  trail  turned  into  the  woods. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

*  AELY  the  next  morning  Warren  K.  Paxton 
sat  in  the  little  cabin  that  did  service  as  an 
office  in  his  camp.  Paxton  was  in  good  spirits 
— better  spirits  than  usual.  The  world  without  was 
steeped  in  August  sunshine  but  even  if  the  skies 
had  been  gray,  Paxton 's  optimistic  mood  would 
have  been  sufficient  to  spread  the  place  with  good 
cheer.  When  a  man  sees  his  fondest  dreams  being 
realized  before  his  very  eyes  he  has  cause  to  be 
happy.  The  arrival  of  Henry  Tyne  the  day  be- 
fore was  the  first  scene  in  the  closing  act  of  the 
drama  in  which  he  was  playing  an  important  role. 
In  three  weeks  or  less  the  curtain  would  go  down 
on  Henry  Tyne  and  his  business  associates  and 
Warren  K.  Paxton  could  write  the  moral  to  the 
story. 

The  fact  that  John  Mackay  had  been  absent  for 
several  days,  with  no  word  of  his  whereabouts  and 
no  certainty  as  to  when  he  should  return,  gave 
Paxton  cause  for  further  satisfaction.  Every 
day  that  passed  now  was  a  day  lost  to  Henry 
Tyne.  The  last  day  of  August  would  bring  Tyne 's 
option  on  the  Micmac  to  an  end,  and  with  less  than 
three  weeks  to  go,  Paxton  could  wait.  He  was 
ready  to  act  when  the  day  and  the  hour  arrived. 

257 


258  .THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"If  we  could  only  keep  John  Mack'ay  out  of  the 
way  for  a  few  days  longer,"  he  thought  to  him- 
self, "it  would  help  to  wear  Henry  down.  Poor 
old  Henry  never  was  much  good  at  waiting.  That 
was  his  chief  fault. ' ' 

His  mind  took  a  sudden  turn  in  another  direc- 
tion. Coming  up  the  pathway  from  the  creek  was 
Jule  Allen,  walking  alone  and  with  very  resolute 
step.  Almost  unconsciously  he  'brushed  his 
clothes  quickly  with  his  hand,  straightened  his 
vest  and  the  collar  of  his  coat  and  became  very 
busy  with  the  papers  that  lay  on  his  table.  He 
did  not  look  up  again  until  the  girl's  shadow 
darkened  the  doorway. 

He  greeted  her  with  his  thin  smile  and  Jule 
came  towards  the  table. 

"Can  I  see  you  alone  for  a  few  minutes,  Mr. 
Paxton?"  she  asked  and  her  manner  was  very 
direct  and  impersonal. 

"Sit  down,"  he  replied  going  for  a  chair  and 
placing  it  near  his  table.  "We '11  not  be  disturbed 
here." 

"I  have  come  to  talk  business  with  you,  Mr.1 
Paxton,"  Jule  proceeded.  "It's  about  the  water 
power  and — Mr.  Tyne." 

Paxton  placed  the  fingers  of  his  two  hands  to-1 
gether  very  thoughtfully  and  looked  at  her  with 
searching  eyes.  He  did  not  know  whether  to  be 
suspicious  or  not. 

"Yes!"  he  prompted  when  she  paused  a  mom- 
ent. 


THE  LOBST1CK  TRAIL  259 

Jule  looked  up  at  him,  her  eyes  gazing  straight 
into  his.  "One  man  already  has  been  broken  and 
laid  away,  Mr.  Paxton,  because — because  men  in 
a  fight  never  know  when  to  quit.  I'm  not  going 
to  blame  anyone  for  my  father's  death,  Mr.  Pax- 
ton.  Don't  misunderstand  me.  He  may  have 
been  as  much  to  blame  for  it  "himself  as  anyone 
else.  He  never  would  give  in. " 

She  paused  and  Paxton  nodded  his  head  slowly 
as  if  assenting  in  a  general  way  to  what  she  had 
said. 

"But  I  don't  think  it  should  have  been  neces- 
sary," Jule  went  on.  "There  should  have  been 
some  way  for  my  father  and  you  and  others  to 
work  together." 

Again  Paxtpn  nodded  his  head  slowly. 

"I've  come  to  tell  you  that  another  man  is  going 
to  be  broken  in  the  same  way — and  to  tell  you  that 
it  isn't  right.  I  never  saw  Mr.  Tyne  until  yester- 
day. I  thought  he  was  strong  and — like  you.  But 
he  isn't.  He  can't  fight  any  more.  He's  like  my 
father  was  when  he  came  home  after  losing  every- 
thing in  the  rapids.  He  can't  go  on  if  he  has  to 
fight  his  way  through." 

She  paused  and  looked  away  a  moment  before 
she  continued. 

"And  I've  come,"  she  said  at  last  in  a  voice 
that  was  very  much  softer,  "I've  come  to  ask  you 
something.  Isn't  there  room  enough  here  for  us 
all"?  Can't  we  work  together  and  live  together 
and— and  make  it  pay?" 


260  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Her  last  words  seemed  pathetically  weak  but 
she  waited,  nevertheless,  to  see  what  response 
Paxton  would  make. 

"I'm  afraid  you  don't  understand,  Miss  Allen," 
he  began. 

"I  do  understand,"  she  protested.  "I  under- 
stand all  there  is  that's  worth  understanding 
about  it.  I  understand  he  wants  to  beat  you  and 
I  understand  you  want  to  beat  him." 

Paxton  laughed  lightly.  "Well  that's  putting 
it  in  very  simple  language,  Miss  Allen,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"Well,  isn't  there  room  for  both  of  you  if  you 
only  thought  so  ?  "  she  urged. 

"The  difficulty  is  in  getting  people  to  think  so," 
Paxton  explained. 

"Mr.  Tyne  thinks  so  now." 

Paxton  laughed  aloud.  "I  know  he  does,  but 
he  didn't  think  so  three  months  ago." 

"Well,  I  want  to  propose  something,"  Jule 
said  without  attempting  to  reply  to  Paxton 's 
observation. "  You  came  to  me  only  a  few  days  ago 
about  the  water  power  on  Kipple  Creek.  You  said 
you  would  respect  my  wishes  regarding  the 
rapids.  I'm  afraid  I  wasn't  very  nice  about  it,  but 
I  couldn't  think  of  anyone  spoiling  the  most 
beautiful  thing  I  have  ever  known.  And  I  wouldn't 
have  let  you  do  it,  in  spite  of  your  lease  and  law 
and  everything.  But  I  have  changed  my  mind.  I 
know  you  will  think  it  isn't  in  my  power  to  change 
your  plans,  But — anyhow — I'll  be  willing  to  see 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  261 

anything  done  to  the  rapids — and  I  won't  say  a 
word — if  you'll  leave  Henry  Tyne  free — if  you'll 
be  content  to  do  your  work  here  and  let  him  do  his 
over  there.  That's  my  business,  Mr.  Paxton." 

Paxton  turned  to  her  with  his  most  patronizing 
air.  "My  dear  Miss  Allen,  you  should  not  call 
this  business.  It  isn't  business.  It's  sentiment, 
and  the  two  don't  mix." 

Jule's  eyes  deepened  and  her  lips  tightened  as 
she  listened  to  him. 

"I  don't  think  it  is  good  business,  in  this  case, 
for  you  to  say  that  to  me." 

"I  was  merely  expressing  my  opinion  —  an 
opinion  I  have  formed  after  years  in  the  world  of 
business." 

She  got  up  abruptly  and  turned  to  go.  "I  had 
thought  that  even  in  the  business  world  men  would 
listen  to  what  was  reasonable." 

Through  the  window  of  his  cabin  Paxton  caught 
the  reflection  of  the  sun  glancing  from  a  wet  pad- 
dle. Lifting  his  head  he  peered  in  the  direction 
of  the  bay.  Two  men  were  approaching  the  land- 
ing just  below  the  slope  on  which  Paxton 's  camp 
stood. 

"Here's  Tyne  now,"  Paxton  announced  and 
Jule  paused  only  long  enough  to  glance  towards 
the  bay  before  hurrying  out  of  the  office. 

"You  will  at  least  not  tell  them  I  have  been 
here,"  she  requested  and  was  gone  before  he  had 
time  to  make  reply. 

Paxton  may  be  forgiven  for  the  feeling  of 


262  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

nervousness  he  experienced  as  he  turned  again 
and  busied  himself  with  the  papers  scattered  about 
on  his  table.  He  had  looked  forward  to  this 
moment  for  months  and  had  often  wondered  just 
where  and  under  what  circumstances  the  big  event 
of  his  business  career  should  occur. 

He  looked  up  at  the  sound  of  Kirk  Brander's 
voice  in  the  doorway.  With  all  the  dignity  the  oc- 
casion seemed  to  call  for  and  with  much  more 
show  of  cordiality  than  it  warranted,  he  got  to  his 
feet  and,  disregarding  Kirk,  advanced  to  meet 
Henry  Tyne,  offering  his  hand  in  greeting.  Tyne 
accepted  the  hand  with  a  word  of  quiet  greeting 
and  taking  off  his  hat  went  to  the  chair  that  Jule 
had  vacated  only  a  few  minutes  previously.  Kirk 
sat  on  a  bench  not  far  from  the  doorway  where 
he  could  see  the  faces  of  both  Paxton  and  his 
uncle. 

Henry  Tyne  lost  no  time  in  getting  to  the  busi- 
ness of  his  visit. 

''I'll  not  take  your  time,  "Warren,"  he  said  in 
the  manner  and  tone  of  voice  he  had  used  for 
years  whenever  he  had  talked  to  Paxton. 

"We're  never  rushed  in  this  country,"  Paxton 
smiled. 

"Well,  an  unpleasant  task  is  best  over  with," 
Tyne  replied.  "Besides,  Kirk,  here,  has  to  get 
back  to  the  mine." 

He  cleared  his  voice  and  straightened  up  in  his 
chair.  ' '  You  seel  Ve  come  to  you  at  last, ' '  he  pro- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  263 

ceeded.  ' '  One  of  us  had  to  come  sooner  or  later. 
I  guess  it's  my  turn  this  time." 

"I've  done  my  share  of  it,  Henry,"  Paxton  re- 
plied, and  for  a  moment  it  was  as  if  the  two  men 
had  met  to  settle  a  little  wager  on  a  friendly  game. 

"There's  no  use  trying  to  conceal  anything," 
Tyne  continued.  "We  have  known  pretty  well 
where  we  stood  all  along.  I  could  have  swung 
this  ten  years  ago  and  five  men  of  your  size,  War- 
ren, couldn't  have  stopped  me.  But  when  a  man 
has  had  his  day,  he's  done.  You'll  have  yours 
just  like  the  rest  of  us." 

Paxton  stroked  his  chin  slowly  in  contemplation 
of  Tyne 's  remark,  but  he  offered  no  reply. 

"I've  come  all  the  way  in  here  to  see  if  I 
could  save  some  of  the  pieces.  I  had  a  talk  with 
Bradley  and  Collins  before  I  left  and  one  or  two 
of  the  others.  It's  all  in  your  hands,  Warren — 
just  where  you  wanted  it.  It  looks  as  if  I'm  going 
to  have  to  pull  out  and  leave  the  field  to  you.  I'm 
going  to  make  no  bones  about  it.  If  I'm  forced  to 
quit  I  'm  practically  cleaned  out.  I 'm  not  whining 
about  it.  I'm  simply  telling  you  what's  true.  If 
we  can  reach  some  sort  of  understanding  I  may 
make  it  go  even  yet." 

Paxton  shook  his  head.  '  'It  can 't  be  made  to  go, 
Henry,"  he  protested,  "unless  the  whole  property 
is  worked  as  one.  There  isn  't  enough  ore  in  either 
mine  to  make  it  worth  while.  I  didn't  know  that 
when  I  started  work  here  or  I  wouldn't  liave  spent 
a  dollar  on  the  place.  The  grade  is  low  and  the 


264  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

whole  body  can  be  run  ont  in  ten  years.  With 
our  problem  of  transportation  it  would  be  a  dead 
loss.  There's  only  one  possible  way  out,  and  I 
think  you  know  what  it  is.  Our  two  properties 
and  the  White  Squaw  claims  must  be  consolidated 
under  one  company." 

"That's  really  my  proposition,  Warren,"  Tyne 
put  in  suddenly.  "I'll  admit  I'm  trying  to  save 
my  own  scalp  when  I  make  the  suggestion  but  I'm 
here  to  work  out  a  basis  on  which  we  can  con- 
solidate our  interests  and  work  the  two  pro- 
perties as  one." 

"That  might  have  been  possible  six  months 
ago,"  Paxton  remarked. 

"What's  the  barrier  now?" 

"The  usual  thing,  I  suppose.  You  entered  the 
field  as  a  competitor  without  any  warning. ' ' 

"I  couldn't  have  got  in  any  other  way,"  Tyne 
explained. 

"That's  true,  but  it  doesn't  alter  the  fact  that 
we  have  lost  practically  a  year  and  a  few  thous- 
and of  valuable  capital  besides  as  a  result  of  the 
competition.  When  you  consider,  in  addition  to 
that  fact,  that  we  are  on  the  eve  of  taking  the 
Micmac  over  anyhow — we  're  prepared  to  go  ahead 
where  you  leave  off — your  plan  wouldn't  improve 
our  position.  I  don't  think  you  would  get  them  to 
listen  to  the  suggestion." 

"You  mean,  of  course,  I  can't  get  you  to  listen 
to  the  suggestion, ' '  Tyne  corrected. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  265 

"You  can  be  very  outspoken  sometimes/'  Pax- 
ton  smiled. 

Paxton 's  air  of  condescension  was  so  apparent 
that  Kirk  Brander,  sitting  a  few  feet  away,  felt  it 
difficult  to  control  himself.  It  became  even  more 
difficult  when  Paxton  turned  his  thin  smile  to- 
wards Kirk  as  if  he  wished  to  tell  him  that  at  last 
he  was  beginning  to  make  good  his  boast.  But 
when  Henry  Tyne,  unable  to  say  more,  got  up 
from  his  chair  and  looked  about  him  in  a  be- 
wildered fashion  as  if  he  did  not  know  the  way  to 
the  door,  Kirk  sprang  to  his  feet  and  faced  Pax- 
ton,  leaning  towards  him  with  his  two  hands  be- 
fore him  on  the  table. 

"Then  perhaps  you'll  listen  to  this  suggestion," 
he  said,  bringing  his  face  down  close  to  Paxton 's. 
"You  think  you're  going  to  put  this  over  because 
Henry  Tyne  is  done.  Well,  listen  to  this,  Warren 
K.  Paxton.  I've  been  developing  a  hunch  for  about 
two  weeks.  Now  I'm  going  to  play  it.  Before  an- 
other week  Henry  Tyne  will  show  you  some  of  his 
old  form.  By  the  first  of  September  he'll  tell  yon 
to  go  to  hell.  I'll  not  say  any  more  just  now  ex- 
cept this — keep  that  bootlegging  gang  of  yours  out 
of  my  camp  or  I'll  drown  them  in  the  lake.  Do 
you  get  that?" 

Paxton  sniffed  a  little  and  moved  to  get  «p. 

"Do  you  get  that?"  Kirk  repeated  and  leaned 
so  close  that  Paxton  settled  back  again  into  his 
chair. 

"I  think  Warren  got  that,  all  right,"  Henry 


266  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Tyne  observed  in  a  tone  that  expressed  much  of 
the  enjoyment  he  was  getting  from  the  situation. 

"Come  on,  Unk,"  said  Kirk,  turning  quickly 
and  pulling  his  hat  down  on  his  head.  " Let's  get 
out — we're  busy." 

A  few  minutes  later  Phil  Roche,  having  by 
chance  seen  Kirk  and  Henry  Tyne  on  their  way 
back  across  the  bay,  came  into  the  office  to  learn 
the  outcome  of  their  visit. 

Paxton  looked  up  at  him  as  he  entered.  "It 
looks  as  if  they  have  struck  it,"  he  remarked,  in 
answer  to  Roche's  questioning  look. 

"Struck  it?" 

' '  The  high  grade  stuff, ' '  Paxton  explained.  ' '  I 
always  knew  they'd  come  to  it  if  they  had  long 
enough  to  do  it.  Brander  gave  a  hint. ' ' 

"Are  you  sure  they're  into  it?  Brander  may 
be  bluffin'." 

Paxton  sniffed  a  little. 

"We'd  better  play  him  the  same  as  if  he  held 
the  highest  hand  in  the  deck,"  he  advised. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PAXTON'S  gness  was  not  far  from  the  point. 
At  a  depth  of  two  hundred  feet  Kirk's  men 
had  drifted  into  a  new  body  of  ore  that  early 
promised  to  equal  the  high  grade  of  the  Lncky 
Strike.  Day  after  day,  and  night  after  night  Kirk 
followed  the  process  of  uncovering  the  new  vein 
and  sampled  the  rich  ore  frequently.  With  Henry 
Tyne  and  Marion  Curtis  he  went  over  the  results 
of  each  day's  drilling  and  with  the  help  of  the 
two  visiting  engineers  made  rough  estimates  based 
upon  the  showings  of  the  day. 

"There's  nothing  to  it,"  Kirk  exclaimed  one 
evening  as  he  looked  at  a  half  dozen  flakes  of  free 
copper  that  lay  on  the  table  before  him.  "We've 
got  it  here — and  you  can  tell  the  world  whenever 
you  feel  like  it." 

"Two  weeks  is  a  short  time  to  tell  the  world 
about  it — and  get  results  that  will  be  worth  any- 
thing to  us,"  Henry  Tyne  observed. 

"Two  weeks  is  long  enough  to  make  a  try," 
Marion  Curtis  commented.  "I'd  have  a  whole 
week  in  Winnipeg." 

"It  isn't  much,"  Tyne  observed. 

"A  week  is  a  week,"  Marion  Curtis  declared. 
"I'm  going  to  leave  in  the  morning." 

267 

(18) 


268  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"I'll  send  Tuck  out  with  you,"  Kirk  suggested. 
''We'll  keep  Unk  here  to  talk  to  John  Mackay 
when  he  gets  back.  If  he  gets  tired  sitting  around 
we'll  give  him  a  day  now  and  then  with  the 
muckers." 

Marion  left  immediately  for  Jule  Allen's  cabin, 
Kirk  accompanying  her.  As  they  passed  the  door 
of  the  sampling  room  Kirk  paused  a  moment  be- 
fore the  open  doorway  to  speak  to  Tuck  Roberts. 

"You'd  better  get  on  in  and  have  a  little  sleep, 
Tuck,"  he  said.  "I  want  you  to  go  to  The  Pas  in 
the  morning.  Don't  bother  going  down  the  shaft 
to-night.  Ill  go  down  and  look  things  over  myself 
on  'the  way  back.  '  ' 

Tuck  received  the  announcement  without  com- 
ment and  prepared  at  once  to  leave  the  work  he 
was  doing.  And  as  they  walked  along  in  the  dark- 
ness, Kirk  and  Marion  Curtis  hurriedly  arranged 
the  details  of  the  plans  which  the  new  discovery 
had  set  into  motion.  Kirk  paused  at  the  door  of 
the  cabin  and  took  his  leave  hurriedly  in  order  to 
get  back  again  to  the  mine  for  an  hour  with  Dags 
before  turning  in  for  the  night. 

"You'll  be  back  again  in  two  weeks,"  Kirk 
said,  shaking  hands  with  her  when  he  was  ready 
to  leave, 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "and,  by  George,  this  thing 
is  going  to  go  over!" 

They  shook  hands  and  Kirk  strode  towards  the 


As  he  approached  the  door  of  the  engine-house 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  269 

someone  came  out  suddenly  and  disappeared  in 
the  darkness.  Kirk  paused  for  a  moment  and  then 
entered.  He  took  his  rubber  coat  from  the  wall  and 
belting  it  round  him,  took  down  a  carbide  lamp 
from  a  shelf,  shook  it  once,  and  lighted  it.  No 
one  was  about  at  the  moment  and  he  stepped 
through  the  small  doorway  into  the  outer  shed 
that  stood  above  Shaft  Number  One.  It  did  not 
occur  to  him  as  strange  that  neither  Dags  nor  the 
hoist  man  was  anywhere  in  sight.  It  was  already 
past  midnight  and  the  men  were  probably  resting 
somewhere  during  the  hour 'a  recess.  But  he 
could  not  help  feeling  a  little  curious  about  the 
figure  he  had  merely  had  a  glimpse  of  as  he  en- 
tered the  engine-house. 

"Without  waiting  to  be  lowered  mto  the  shaft, 
he  turned  the  little  pencil  of  flame  from  his  car- 
bide lamp  towards  the  square  timbered  hole  in  the 
ground.  The  water  on  the  rungs  of  the  ladder 
glistened  faintly  in  the  light.  Slowly  he  made  his 
way  down  the  shaft,  his  feet  feeling  for  the  slip- 
pery rungs  in  the  darkness.  As  the  light  from  his 
lamp  dimmed  he  shook  it  until  the  flame  spurted 
brightly  and  lighted  up  the  wet  glistening  walls  of 
the  shaft.  As  he  descended  the  sound  of  water 
trickling  down  the  walls  grew  more  distinct. 

When  he  came  to  the  last  rung  of  the  ladder 
he  put  one  foot  down  in  the  darkness  and  felt  for 
the  bottom  of  the  shaft.  He  touched  water  and 
withdrawing  his  foot  again,  shook  his  lamp  and 
held  it  beneath  him,  A  pool  of  black  water  sev- 


270  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

eral  inches  deep  filled  the  depression  in  the  rock 
where  the  shaft  ended.  The  heavy  steel  'bucket 
stood  nearly  half  submerged  and  empty  at  the  end 
of  its  cable.  Close  to  the  shaft  stood  an  ore  car 
with  no  ore  in  it. 

"Jove,  you'd  think  these  fellows  had  gone  off 
on  a  week's  vacation,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 

Then  suddenly  it  struck  him  that  the  place  was 
unusually  quiet.  "What's  the  matter?"  he  said 
aloud.  "The  pumps  aren't  working." 

He  heard  the  voices  of  the  men  at  the  far  end  of 
the  tunnel.  Placing  a  foot  on  the  edge  of  the  big 
steel  bucket  and  seizing  the  cable  to  steady  him- 
self, he  leaped  across  the  shaft  and  landed  on  solid 
footing  between  the  rails.  Giving  his  lamp  another 
shake  he  started  off  along  the  narrow  track,  his 
eyes  peering  before  him  into  the  pitchy  blackness 
of  underground.  A  hundred  feet  or  so  from  the 
shaft  he  saw  a  point  of  light  approaching  him  out 
of  the  darkness  ahead.  It  was  coming  very  quick- 
ly and  Kirk's  ears  caught  the  sound  of  running 
feet  clumsily  stumbling  over  the  uneven  floor  of 
the  tunnel.  The  light  from  his  own  lamp  was  very 
low.  He  shook  it  again  gently,  then  violently — 
the  pencil  of  flame  shortened  to  a  mere  point  and 
went  out.  He  gave  the  little  wheel  at  the  side  of 
the  reflector  a  sharp  turn.  A  little  shower  of 
sparks  flew  from  the  flint  but  there  was  no  light. 
Again  he  shook  the  lamp,  holding  it  close  to  his 
ear. 

"Hang  it — it's  empty!"  he  muttered. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  271 

He  looked  again  towards  the  point  of  light  com- 
ing towards  him.  It  was  only  a  few  yards  away, 
its  bearer  stumbling  forward  in  clumsy  haste. 

"Hello,"  Kirk  called.   "What's  the  hurry?" 

The  point  of  light  stopped  suddenly.  Then  as 
Kirk  moved  forward  it  moved  slowly,  cautiously, 
Kirk  thought,  to  one  side.  Suddenly  it  went  out 
and  they  were  in  pitchy  darkness.  To  Kirk's 
challenging  question  there  came  no  reply.  He 
moved  back  a  little  on  the  defensive.  Away  at  the 
other  end  of  the  tunnel  four  or  five  pin-points  of 
light  moved  about  against  the  blackness.  Though 
the  lights  were  almost  invisible,  nothing  could 
pass  between  them  and  Kirk  without  being  dis- 
covered. He  crouched  low  against  one  wall,  hug- 
ging the  jagged  angles  of  slimy  rock  in  an  effort 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  man  who  was  using  the 
darkness  of  the  tunnel  to  hide  his  identity. 

He  had  waited  less  than  a  minute  when  the 
points  of  light  were  shut  from  his  view.  From  the 
suddenness  with  which  all  the  lights  vanished 
at  once  he  knew  the  obstruction  was  very  close. 
Suddenly  a  bit  of  rock  clanked  lightly  against  the 
steel  rail  of  the  track  that  ran  along  the  floor  of 
the  tunnel.  The  noise  sounded  not  more  than  three 
or  four  feet  away.  With  a  bound  forward  Kirk 
threw  his  arms  out  before  him  ready  to  seize 
whatever  they  encountered  or  to  defend  himself 
against  any  attack.  For  a  fraction  of  a  second 
he  had  the  feeling  ol  throwing  himself  over  the 
side  of  a  precipice,  on  the  mere  chance  of  coining 


272  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

to  rest  in  a  tree  just  a  few  feet  over  the  edge. 
Then,  even  before  he  expected  it,  his  rush  was 
stopped  suddenly  and  the  next  moment  he  was 
grappling  blindly  with  an  opponent  whose  awk- 
ward strength  and  sheer  desperation  gave  Kirk 
all  he  could  do  to  keep  the  advantage  he  had 
gained  in  the  first  shock  of  his  attack.  After  a 
brief  moment  of  uncertainty,  however,  Kirk 
secured  a  hold  about  the  man's  waist  and  by  sheer 
strength  of  muscle  bent  him  backwards  until  he 
relaxed  and  went  down.  Holding  him  with  both 
hands  Kirk  felt  around  in  the  darkness  with  his 
two  feet  for  the  carbide  lamp  his  antagonist  had 
dropped.  When  ho  encountered  it  only  a  few  feet 
away  he  reached  for  it  with  one  hand,  shook  it  a 
little  and  gave  the  little  wheel  a  quick  turn.  The 
tiny  flame  shot  from  the  lamp  suddenly  and  Kirk 
turned  the  light  on  the  face  of  the  man  beneath 
him.  It  was  Joe  Bedard. 

"Without  speaking  Kirk  got  up  and  dragged  the 
half-breed  to  his  feet.  His  eyes  were  half  closed 
and  his  expression  was  that  of  a  man  in  a  half 
stupor.  From  somewhere  above  his  forehead  a 
stream  of  blood  ran  from  under  his  hair  and  down 
his  face.  He  looked  stupidly  at  Kirk  for  a  moment 
and  then  put  out  his  hands  as  if  to  save  himself 
from  falling.  Eealizing  that  Bedard  was  prob- 
ably badly  hurt  Kirk  put  one  arm  about  him  to 
steady  him.  The  haL'-breed  relaxed  eickerifngly 
and  would  have  gone  to  the  ground  had  Kirk  not 
kept  him  on  his  feet. 


THE  JjOBSTICK  TRAIL  273 

"What's  the  matter,  Joe?"  he  asked,  but  Be- 
dard  offered  no  word  of  reply. 

"Jove,  you've  got  yours  somewhere,"  he  re- 
marked to  himself. 

Then  suddenly  he  was  aware  of  the  voice  of  old 
Dags,  lifted  in  lurid  profanity  as  he  came  down 
the  tunnel,  lamp  in  hand,  driving  a  couple  of  men 
before  him.  Kirk  turned  and  held  his  light  towards 
Dags.  The  effect  was  to  heighten  the  old  man's 
anger.  When  Kirk  held  the  lamp  high  so  as  to 
throw  the  light  on  his  own  face  Dags  halted  sud- 
denly and  commanded  his  two  prisoners  to  do  like- 
wise. 

"Take  these  bums  out  o'  here  an'  throw  them 
into  the  lake,"  he  said  as  he  recognized  Kirk. 
Then  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  Joe  Bedard  he  rushed 
towards  him.  * '  There  you  are,  you  half-caste  son 
of  a  dog!"  he  cried  and  Kirk  had  all  he  could  do 
to  keep  Bedard  on  his  feet  and  hold  Dags  off. 

"Just  a  minute,  Dagsie,"  he  protested,  "he's 
all  in — can't  stand  on  his  own  feet." 

"Take  him  out  and  throw  him  into  the  lake," 
Dags  persisted. 

"What's  the  matter,  Dagsie?"  Kirk  asked,  still 
holding  him  away  from  Bedard. 

"Matter?"  roared  Dags.  "The  bootleggin' 
mongrels — stopped  the  works — knocked  the  whole 
shift  cold — two  of  'em  got  away— Phil  Roche  an' 
that " 

He  broke  off  suddenly  and  made  a  desperate 
attempt  to  get  at  Bedard.  But  Kirk  swung  Bedard 


274  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

out  of  the  way  and  stood  between  him  and  Dags. 

"You've  done  enough  for  now,"  Kirk  said 
quietly.  "We  don't  want  to  kill  him — I'm  going 
to  use  him  if  he  gets  his  senses  back. ' ' 

Dags  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  half-breed's  face 
marked  with  its  stream  of  blood. 

'  *  Holy  mackinaw ! "  he  exclaimed.  * '  You  pretty 
near  fixed  him,  eh?" 

"I  did?"  Kirk  asked  in  surprise. 

"Yes— look!" 

Kirk  looked  at  Dags  in  surprise.  "I  didn't  do 
that,"  he  said.  "I  thought  you " 

"Who  hit  you?"  Dags  interrupted,  addressing 
Bedard  suddenly. 

But  Joe  Bedard  drew  his  grimy  hand  across 
his  face  and  laid  his  fingers  over  the  wound  in  his 
scalp — and  remained  silent. 

"Let's  get  them  out  of  here,"  Kirk  said  leading 
the  way  and  taking  Bedard  along  with  him. 
"Come  along,  Joe,  you're  going  to  stay  with  me 
for  a  few  days. " 

Bedard  offered  no  protest  but  shuffled  along 
willingly  enough  behind  Kirk.  The  two  miners 
followed,  Dags  bringing  up  the  rear 

"But  where  in  blazes  is  Tuck?"  Dags  asked  as 
they  filed  down  the  tunnel.  "Isn't  he  workin' 
here  anymore?" 

"I  took  him  off  to-night,"  Kirk  replied  briefly. 
* l  Special  duty,  Dags. ' ' 

Dags  grunted.  "He  picked  a  fine  night  for 
special  dutyiny  he  growled. 


CHAPTER 


THEY  made  their  way  slowly  up  the  long  lad- 
ders to  the  top  of  the  shaft,  resting  here 
and  there  on  the  way  to  give  Bedard  an 
opportunity  to  gather  strength  enough  to  con- 
tinue the  climb.  Although  the  half-breed  pre- 
served complete  silence  before  their  questionings 
and  offered  no  voluntary  word  of  his  own  to  ac- 
count for  his  battered  condition,  it  was  quite  ap- 
parent that  it  required  all  the  remaining  strength 
he  could  command  to  get  to  the  top  of  the  shaft. 
More  than  once  Kirk  had  to  assist  him  and  their 
pauseis  for  rest  were  frequent  and  sometimes 
lengthy. 

"When  they  finally  stepped  one  after  another  in- 
to the  boiler  room  and  came  out  into  the  light 
from  one  of  the  large  lamps,  Kirk  left  Dags  to 
look  after  the  two  miners  for  a  moment  while  he 
led  Bedard  into  the  best  light  the  place  afforded 
and,  parting  the  matted  black  hair  very  carefully, 
examined  the  wound. 

"  Jove,  this  will  have  to  get  attention  for  a  few 
days,"  he  remarked  as  he  looked  closely  at  the 
ugly  gash  from  which  the  blood  flowed  freely. 

Then  he  stepped  back  and  looked  at  Bedard, 

275 


276  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAJL 

holding  him  at  arm's  length  with  his  two  hands  on 
his  shoulders. 

Again  Bedard 's  silence  greeted  Kirk's  question 
and  his  face  was  as  expressionless  as  if  he  had  not 
heard  his  voice. 

"Phil  Eoche  did  it!"  Dags  snapped  angrily. 
"  Joe  knows  that — and  I  know  it." 

"Did  Eoche  hit  you!"  Kirk  asked. 

But  the  half-breed's  silence  remained  un- 
broken. Only  this  time  his  face  twitched  slightly 
as  from  the  pain  in  the  wound  and  he  turned  about 
in  a  dazed  manner  as  if  looking  for  an  opportunity 
to  get  out  into  the  air. 

"You're  going  to  stay  with  me  for  a  few  days," 
Kirk  said  taking  his  arm  and  going  towards  the 
door.  "Come  on,  Dags.  We'll  go  up  to  the  office 
and  straighten  things  out  a  little." 

They  climbed  the  trail  from  the  engine-house  to 
the  cabins  on  the  ridge  above,  Kirk  supporting 
Bedard  with  the  help  of  one  of  the  miners.  When 
they  had  laid  the  half-breed  on  a  mattress,  Kirk 
gave  him  a  cup  of  water  and  then  turned  to  the 
two  miners. 

"You  two  fellows  go  and  get  your  stuff  together 
and  bring  it  down  here,"  he  said.  "Dags,  go  with 
them  and  bring  them  back.  See  that  they  don 't  talk 
to  anyone." 

Dags  and  the  two  men  went  out  and  Kirk  turned 
at  once  to  the  task  of  bathing  Bedard 's  wound.  At 
the  end  of  half  an  hour  Dags  and  his  men  entered 
the  door  to  find  Bedard 's  head  dressed  in  a  clean 


THE  LOBSTICK  TKAIL  277 

white  towel  and  his  face  washed  of  all  the  grime 
and  blood  with  which  it  had  been  smeared.  Bedard 
was  resting  quietly,  his  eyes  closed  and  his  face 
relaxed  and  expressionless. 

"Now,  yon  fellows,''  Kirk  said  suddenly  ad- 
dressing the  two  miners,  "you  come  with  us  and 
stay  where  we  can  keep  an  eye  on  you.  To-mor- 
row afternoon  you  can  get  away  with  the  freight- 
ers. But  if  I  catch  either  of  you  speaking  a  word 
to  anyone,  God  have  mercy  on  you.  We've  started 
in  now  and  we'll  do  murder  if  necessary  before 
this  thing  is  done.  Do  you  get  that  ? ' ' 

The  men  made  no  audible  reply  but  Kirk  knew 
from  the  expressions  on  their  faces  that  they 
understood.  He  was  not  bluffing  and  they  knew 
it. 

"Leave  your  stuff  here,"  he  said,  taking  their 
packs  and  throwing  them  into  a  corner.  "Now, 
get  down." 

He  looked  once  again  at  Joe  Bedard.  He'll  be 
all  right  there  till  we  come  back,"  he  said  to  Dags. 
"He  couldn't  move  away  if  he  wanted  to." 

But  as  a  precaution  he  locked  the  store-room 
door  before  turning  away  to  join  Dags  and  the 
two  miners  on  their  way  back  to  the  engine-house. 

When  Kirk  emerged  from  the  shaft  an  hour  or 
so  before  sunrise  he  was  grime  from  head  to  foot 
and  weary  beyond  description.  But  the  work  was 
going  on  again  almost  as  smoothly  as  if  nothing 
had  happened. 

When  he  got  to  the  cabin  he  found  Tuck  Roberts 


278  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

already  busy  with  preparations  for  his  trip  to  The 
Pas.  Giving  him  only  the  most  meagre  account  of 
what  had  happened  during  the  night,  he  joined  in 
the  work  of  getting  things  in  readiness  for  the 
trip.  One  of  the  freighters,  a  half-breed  packer, 
was  selected  to  accompany  Tuck  and  by  the  time 
the  sun  was  showing  through  the  trees  the  three 
were  on  their  way  to  Jule  Allen's  cabin.  Henry 
Tyne  they  left  enjoying  the  luxury  of  his  early 
morning  sleep.  He  had  said  all  he  could  the  night 
before  and  Kirk  slipped  away  without  waking 
him. 

They  found  Jule  and  Marion  Curtis  finishing 
their  breakfast,  preparations  for  Marion's  depart- 
ure having  been  completed.  Despatching  Tuck 
and  the  packer  to  get  the  canoe  loaded  and  into 
the  water,  Kirk  entered  the  cabin  and  seated  him- 
self near  the  doorway.  Marion's  smile  grew  into 
laughter  as  she  looked  at  him,  grime-covered  from 
head  to  foot. 

Kirk  explained  briefly  his  appearance  and  made 
due  apologies.  A  few  minutes  later  they  went 
down  to  where  the  men  were  waiting  in  the  canoe. 
Marion's  leave-taking  was  hurried  and  very  im- 
personal, except  that  she  could  not  resist  a  smile 
as  she  looked  at  Kirk,  more  grimy  than  ever,  it 
seemed,  in  the  fresh  light  of  the  morning  sun.  And 
for  some  reason  that  he  could  not  clearly  explain 
her  smile  roused  in  him  a  feeling  of  resentment. 

"I  guess  I  should  have  cleaned  up  a  little,"  he 
said  as  he  turned  away  with  Jule  after  they  had 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  279 

watched  until  the  canoe  had  vanished  round  a 
bend  in  the  creek.  *  <  But  I  r eaUy  hadn  't  time. ' ' 

Jule  looked  at  him  out  of  eyes  that  showed  how 
completely  she  shared  his  feeling  of  resentment. 
' '  I  don 't  think  it  matters, ' '  she  said  quietly.  * '  In 
fact  I  think  I  rather  like  you  better  the  way  you 
are." 

"I  shall  never  look  at  water  again,"  Kirk 
laughed  and  left  her  to  hurry  back  again  to  the 
camp. 

It  was  almost  noon  before  Kirk  could  leave  the 
work  at  the  mine  long  enough  to  give  any  attention 
to  Joe  Bedard.  He  had  left  word  with  his  clerk 
to  go  to  him  in  case  he  should  call  and  to  look  in 
on  him  two  or  three  times  during  the  morning  but 
under  no  circumstances  to  let  him  out  or  allow 
anyone  to  see  him. 

When  at  last  he  unlocked  the  store-room  door, 
opened  it  and  looked  in,  Bedard  turned  his  head 
slightly  and  made  an  effort  to  sit  up. 

"Better  stay  where  you  are,  Joe,"  Kirk  ad- 
vised, seeing  how  difficult  it  was  for  him  to  move. 

Bedard  lay  back  again  and  allowed  Kirk  to  take 
the  dressing  from  the  wpund  and  examine  it.  He 
spent  nearly  half  an  hour  bathing  it  and  dressing 
it  afresh.  Then  he  sat  back  and  looked  for  a  mom- 
ent at  the  stolid  face  that  was  beginning  to  show 
the  marks  of  suffering.  After  all,  he  thought, 
Bedard  was  human.  He  had  been  the  willing  tool 
of  Phil  Roche  but  he  had  been  a  mere  tool,  after 
all.  And  Kirk  was  moved  almost  to  pity  for  him 


280  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

now  that  he  lay  helpless  and  deserted  by  the  men 
who  had  used  him  as  a  means  to  the  end  they 
sought. 

"YouVe  got  to  have  more  attention  than  I  can 
give  you,  Joe,"  he  said  finally,  "more  attention 
and  better  attention." 

Bedard 's  face  was  towards  the  door.  Suddenly 
it  lighted  and  Kirk  saw  his  eyes  brighten. 

"Can  I  get  you  anything?"  he  asked. 

"See  her — Kuth,"  the  half-breed  grunted  and 
Kirk  turned  to  see  Ruth  Mackay  entering  the 
doorway. 

On  seeing  Joe  Bedard,  Euth  came  forward 
x  quietly  and  looked  down  at  him.  There  passed 
over  her  face  a  look  of  surprise  mingled  with  pity 
and  Kirk  got  up  as  she  pressed  closer  and  looked 
into  fhe  half-breed's  face.  Kirk  saw  more  in  that 
look  than  he  had  ever  seen  in  Euth  Mackay 's  face 
before.  He  had  always  seen  sympathy  and  sin- 
cerity there.  Now  there  was  an  expression  half 
furtive,  half  savage,  that  spoke  volumes.  Before 
her  was  a  man  bred,  like  herself,  of  two  races,  and 
suffering  largely  because  of  his  mixed  blood.  Only 
she,  or  someone  else  of  her  kind,  could  feel  for 
Joe  Bedard  as  she  felt. 

Even  as  Kirk  explained  hastily  and  as  best  he 
could  all  that  had  happened  the  night  before,  Euth 
Mackay  was  busy  doing  what  she  could  to  make 
Bedard  more  comfortable.  And  as  Kirk  watched 
them  he  realized  that  the  half-breed's  face  was 
less  stolid  and  his  expression  less  indifferent. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  281 

When  Kirk  had  explained  Tuck's  hurried  depart- 
ure for  The  Pas,  he  went  off  to  get  a  little  rest  and 
left  Ruth  alone  with  Bedard. 

From  that  time  forward  Joe  Bedard  was  under 
the  care  of  Ruth  Mackay.  He  had  developed  a 
high  fever  and  was  in  need  of  constant  attention. 

Late  that  afternoon  John  Mackay  returned 
home.  He  had  met  Tuck  Roberts  and  Marion 
Curtis  on  the  way  and  lost  no  time  in  looking  up 
Henry  Tyne  after  he  drew  his  canoe  out  of  the 
water  before  his  cabin.  The  first  conference  be- 
tween the  two  men  was  brief  and  very  pointed. 
John  Mckay  was  in  his  usual  silent  mood.  He 
heard  Tyne's  statement.  He  expressed  his  own 
doubts  in  as  few  words  as  necessary.  He  listened 
to  Tyne's  reply.  Then  he  walked  off  towards  Jule 
Allen's  cabin  where  Jie  had  business  that  needed 
attention.  He  would  wait  for  a  few  days  to  think 
it  over.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Curtis  would  be  back  be- 
fore the  last  day  of  August,  in  which  case  their 
course  of  action  would  be  clear.  Perhaps  she 
wouldn't  come  in  time  to  take  up  the  option  before 
it  expired.  In  that  case  the  situation  would  be 
altered.  At  any  rate  he  had  business  just  now, 
and  off  he  went  leaving  Henry  Tyne  to  curse  the 
old  man's  attitude  of  independence. 

Kirk  laughed.  * '  They  're  nearly  all  alike,  Unk, ' ' 
he  said.  "The  old-timers  act  as  if  they  didn't 
care  a  tinker's  hoot  whether  they  sold  their  claims 
or  not.  But  they  have  their  human  side  as  well." 

That  John  Mackay,  at  least,  had  his  human  side 


282  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

was  proven  later  that  evening  when  he  came  back 
in  his  canoe  with  his  daughter  and,  while  Ruth 
attended  to  Joe  Bedard  in  the  store-room,  went 
to  Kirk's  cabin  where  he  chatted  pleasantly  and 
told  stories  of  the  wilds  that  made  Henry  Tyne 
forget  there  was  such  a  thing  as  a  copper  mine  in 
existence.  And  then  he  told  of  old  John  Allen  and 
his  loss. 

"An*  I've  been  figurin'  a  bit  on  that  same 
event, ' '  he  concluded  meditatively.  ' '  John  Allen 's 
loss  wasn't  all  an  accident.  Though  we'll  never 
know  but  it  was,  old  John  was  too  damn'  per- 
tickler  to  put  cables  on  trees  jist  to  have  'em 
slip  off  again." 

Old  Dags  had  been  lying  in  his  bunk  listening 
without  comment  to  the  talk  that  had  been  going 
round.  Suddenly  he  sat  up  and  put  his  feet  out 
upon  the  floor. 

"That's  what  I  said  the  day  it  happened, 
John,"  he  declared. 

"That's  what  I  told  John  Allen  himself  before 
he  died,"  John  Mackay  admitted. 

As  if  to  give  embodiment  to  the  suspicions  that 
arose  vaguely  in  the  minds  of  them  all,  a  step 
sounded  outdoors  and  they  looked  up  to  see 
Warren  Paxton's  form  filling  the  doorway.  He 
came  in  just  far  enough  to  see  Kirk  Brander  and 
Henry  Tyne.  There  was  no  suspicion  of  a  smile 
on  his  face.  He  was  serious,  if  not  angry. 

"Brander,"  he  said  abruptly,  "you  have  one  of 
my  men  in  your  camp,  held  here  against  his  will" 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  283 


"Did  he  say  sot"  Kirk  asked. 
"It  doesn't  matter  a  damn  whether  he  said  so 

g 


or  not/'  Paxton  snapped.  "I'm  here  to  bring 
him  back  where  he  belongs." 

"You're  right,  Paxton,"  Kirk  replied,  "it 
doesn't  matter.  Joe  Bedard  isn't  going  back  anv- 
how." 

"  He  isn't,  eh  ?" 

Paxton  turned  and  spoke  to  someone  waiting 
in  the  darkness  behind  him.  Another  figure  came 
forward  and  stepped  into  the  doorway.  Kirk 
recognized  Willoughby  of  the  Saskatchewan  Pro- 
vincial Constabulary. 

"Hello,  Willoughby,"  he  greeted  him. 

Willoughby 's  manner  was  pleasant.  "Hello, 
Brander,"  he  replied  quietly.  "Don't  you  think 
you'd  better  hand  over  Joe  and  save  trouble  for 
everybody  I ' ' 

Kirk's  face  expressed  his  consternation.  "Since 
when  did  the  Saskatchewan  police  get  power  to  act 
in  Manitoba,  Willoughby?"  he  asked.  "You're 
about  five  hundred  yards  from  Saskatchewan." 

Willoughby 's  manner  was  unchanged.  ' 1 1  know 
all  about  that,  Brander,"  he  said  quietly.  "We 
don't  get  round  our  patrols  more  than  two  or  three 
times  in  a  season  and  we're  always  willing  to  help 
settle  disputes.  If  Bedard  is  here  against  his 
will  you're  breaking  the  law  and  sooner  or  later 
we'll  get  you  anyhow.  I  just  want  to  save 
trouble." 

"If  you  don't  hand  him  over,  I'll  bring  enough 

(19) 


284  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

men  over  here  to  clean  ont  your  camp,"  Paxton 
threatened. 

''Seems  to  me,  Paxton,  your  feet  aren't  track- 
ing straight  to-night,"  Kirk  replied.  "If  Wil- 
loughby allows  that  kind  of  thing  to  happen  with 
him  on  the  ground,  there  ought  to  be  some  way  of 
putting  both  you  and  him  into  a  whole  peck  of 
trouble." 

' '  Trouble  be  damned, ' '  Paxton  roared.  '  *  I  want 
Joe  Bedard  back  where  he  belongs  or  I'm  coming 
to  take  him ! ' ' 

Suddenly  John  Mackay  got  up  from  where  he 
had  been  sitting  and  moved  into  the  range  of  Pax- 
ton's  vision. 

"An'  I  say  nobody's  goin'  to  lay  a  hand  on 
Joe  Bedard  till  he  plumb  well  wants  to  go,"  he 
said  in  a  voice  that  was  maddening  in  its  finality. 
"My  girl  has  come  over  to  get  Joe  an'  bring  him 
back  where  he  can  get  the  right  kind  of  attention. 
An'  she's  goin'  to  get  him." 

Paxton  stepped  back  suddenly  as  if  he  had  been 
hit.  After  a  moment  or  two  of  silence  his  thin 
smile  gradually  got  the  better  of  a  look  of  pained 
surprise  and  he  stepped  towards  John  Mackay. 

"I'm  glad  you're  back,"  he  said,  offering  his 
hand. 

John  Mackay  accepted  the  greeting  non-com- 
mittally.  Paxton  turned  to  Willoughby,  his  man- 
ner completely  changed. 

"Willoughby  I  want  you  to  meet  John  Mac- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  285 

kay, '  '  lie  said  pleasantly.  l '  This  is  Mr.  Willough- 
by  of  the  Saskatchewan  force,  John." 

"Is  it  ?  "  John  Mackay  retorted  without  moving. 

"And,  of  course,  if  Mr.  Mackay  wants  Joe  to 
stay  with  him  for  a  day  or  so,  the  case  is  alto- 
gether different.  There  won't  be  any  trouble 
over  that." 

He  turned  and  seemed  on  the  point  of  leaving. 
"I'm  coming  over  to  talk  business  with  you  as 
soon  as  you  get  rested  up  from  your  cruise,  John," 
he  said. 

"I  don't  get  tired,  Mr.  Paxton,"  John  Mackay 
replied.  "If  I  did  I'd  think  I  was  gettin*  old  or 
something." 

Paxton 's  laugh  seemed  genuine  enough  even  if 
it  was  a  little  forced.  "  I  '11  come  over  in  the  morn- 
ing, then,"  he  suggested. 

John  Mackay  spat  into  the  ashes  in  front  of  the 
stove  that  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"I'm  not  talkin'  business  till  the  last  day  of 
August — or  maybe  the  first  of  September,"  he 
said  casually. 

Paxton  turned  his  smile  upon  Kirk  and  Henry 
^Tyne. 

"We  can  wait,"  he  said  drily. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

FOR  the  days  that  followed,  Joe  Bedard  re- 
mained under  John  Mackay's  roof  and  re- 
ceived care  at  the  hands  of  his  daughter. 
With  Tuck  Roberts  gone  Kirk  had  little  time  to 
spend  away  from  the  work  in  the  mine  but  oc- 
casionally he  made  his  way  to  Mackay's  cabin  to 
enquire  concerning  Bedard 's  condition.  That  his 
visits  should  have  been  timed  for  the  most  part 
to  coincide  exactly  with  those  of  Jule  Allen, 
whether  by  accident  or  design,  may  be  taken 
merely  as  a  matter  of  record. 

For  a  few  days,  at  least,  Bedard 's  condition 
was  almost  serious.  But  Ruth  Mackay's  patience 
and  her  native  instincts  won  out  in  the  end.  Kirk 
was  careful  not  to  interfere  in  any  way  with 
Ruth's  work  but  when  the  last  sign  of  the  fever 
had  subsided  Kirk  faced  Bedard  with  the  de- 
liberate intention  of  carrying  out  the  plan  that 
had  been  in  his  mind  for  some  days.  Joe  Bedard, 
he  felt  sure,  had  secrets,  the  revelation  of  which 
might  be  of  value  either  in  dismissing  or  in 
vindicating  suspicions  that  he  held  concerning  not 
only  Phil  Roche  but  Warren  Paxton  as  well.  Two 
nights  in  succession  he  strove  merely  to  get  the 
halfbreed  to  talk.  On  the  second  evening  he  suc- 

286 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  287 

ceeded  in  learning  that  Roche  had  struck  the  blow 
that  had  laid  Bedard  out  that  night  in  the  tunnel. 
They  had  quarrelled  over  some  miscarriage  of 
plans  for  which  Eoche  had  held  Bedard  re- 
sponsible. When  Kirk  pressed  for  more  details 
concerning  the  nature  of  the  plans,  Bedard  looked 
once  at  Euth  Mackay  and  lapsed  into  silence.  Kirk 
resolved  to  wait  until  the  next  night  before  he 
asked  any  more  questions. 

As  he  approached  John  Mackay 's  cabin  the  fol- 
lowing night  he  saw  Phil  Eoche  pushing  off  in  his 
canoe.  He  could  not  have  seen  Kirk  who  was  hid- 
den by  the  close  undergrowth  through  which  he 
was  walking,  and  Kirk  permitted  him  to  get  well 
away  before  he  approached  the  cabin.  That 
night  Joe  Bedard  was  silent  to  all  his  questions. 
Growing  impatient,  Kirk  tried  threats  with  much 
the  same  result.  The  half-breed  was  not  going  to 
be  forced  either  into  making  confessions  on  his 
own  part  or  into  revealing  secrets  in  the  lives  of 
others. 

"You'd  better  leave  him,"  John  Mackay  sug- 
gested. ' '  One  drop  o '  Cree  blood  in  a  man's  veins 
an'  if  he  don't  want  to  talk  you  couldn't  make  him 
if  you  set  him  on  hot  coals." 

Before  Kirk  left  that  evening,  John  Mackay 
called  him  outside  on  the  pretext  of  looking  at 
some  samples  of  ore  he  had  picked  up  on  a  recent 
expedition. 

"There's  no  use  tryin'  to  get  that  boy  to  talk," 
the  old  prospector  said  when  they  were  alone. 


288  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"Phil  was  here  this  evening  an*  they  had  a  few 
words  in  private.  From  this  time  on,  Joe  Bedard 
isn't  speakin'  to  anyone,  unless  maybe,  the  girl. 
But  you're  not  goin'  to  get  anything  out  o'  her. 
She's  a  lot  of  her  mother  in  her." 

"I'd  never  ask  Euth,"  Kirk  replied. 

"Something's  been  on  the  girl's  mind  lately," 
John  Mackay  continued.  "It's  been  worryin'  her 
bad  an'  she  won't  talk.  She's  changed — just  in 
the  last  few  days  or  so — an'  I  don't  like  it.  She's 
troubled." 

"It  may  be  all  right  again  when  Tuck  comes 
back,"  Kirk  suggested. 

* '  That 's  it, ' '  Mackay  replied  quickly.  * '  Are  you 
sure  the  lad  is  comin'  back.  Men  have  queer  ways 
with  them  sometimes." 

Kirk  was  startled  at  the  suggestion.  * '  Tuck  will 
be  back,"  he  said  with  confidence.  "And  he's 
going  to  be  back  on  or  before  the  last  day  of 
August.  I'm  banking  on  Tuck — and  Tuck  has 
never  failed  me  yet." 

"He'll  come — if  he  can,"  John  Mackay  replied, 
"I  feel  sure  of  that  too." 

"Sure,"  Kirk  declared. 

But  on  the  way  back  to  camp  that  night  he  could 
not  free  himself  from  the  feeling  of  uneasiness 
that  John  Mackay 's  words  had  given  him.  And 
through  the  days  that  followed  the  feeling  per- 
sisted until  something  like  dark  presentiment 
seized  him  and  he  found  himself  longing  for 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  289 

Tuck's  return  as  if  not  only  the  fate  of  their 
enterprise  but  life  itself  hung  on  his  coming. 

But  the  days  passed  and  Tuck  did  not  come, 
though  throughout  the  last  week  in  August  they 
watched  constantly  every  approach  to  the  camp 
to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  him.  And  in  the 
meanwhile  Joe  Bedard  slipped  away  from  Mac- 
kay's  cabin  without  Kirk's  knowing  and  disap- 
peared from  the  district  without  speaking  a  word 
to  anyone  unless  to  Euth  Mackay — but  Euth  said 
nothing. 

It  was  a  crestfallen  pair  of  men  that  took  the 
trail  to  John  Mackay 's  cabin  in  the  late  afternoon 
of  that  last  day  in  August.  They  had  waited  im- 
patiently all  day,  confident  that  Tuck  and  Marion 
Curtis  would  arrive  any  minute.  Henry  Tyne  had 
spent  most  of  the  day  with  Jule  Allen  at  her  cabin, 
to  be  on  hand  in  case  Tuck  should  come.  Bark 
had  done  his  best  to  carry  on  the  work  he  had  at 
hand  to  do,  though  most  of  his  efforts  had  been 
ineffective  and  blundering.  For  once  he  found 
himself  hopelessly  dependent  upon  others.  Though 
he  refused  to  allow  his  confidence  in  Marion  Curtis 
and  Tuck  Eoberts  to  wane,  he  had  begun  vaguely 
to  anticipate  what  it  would  be  like  if  within  the 
next  day  or  two  he  should  be  forced  to  leave  the 
country,  beaten  and  a  failure,  as  he  had  come  into 
it.  A  few  minutes  before,  they  had  seen  Pax- 
ton's  canoe  leave  the  landing  and  start  across  the 
lake  towards  Mackay 's  cabin.  And  now,  as  Kirk 
followed  his  uncle  along  the  pathway  he  thought 


290  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

the  old  man's  shoulders  drooped  more  and  his 
step  was  more  labored  than  it  had  been  for  days. 

They  found  Paxton  in  the  cabin  with  John  Mac- 
kay.  Sitting  on  the  lakeshore  where  the  canoe 
waited,  was  Paxton 's  young  clerk.  Kirk  had  ex- 
pected to  see  Phil  Roche  and  his  surprise  made 
him  wonder  what  had  kept  Roche  away.  Ruth 
Mackay  got  up  from  where  she  had  been  Bitticg 
when  Kirk  and  Henry  Tyne  entered  and  turning 
a  troubled  look  upon  Kirk,  went  out. 

John  Mackay  was  in  a  very  reticent  mood.  He 
received  the  greetings  of  Kirk  and  his  uncle  with 
little  show  of  cordiality  and  invited  them  to  seats 
at  a  comfortable  distance  from  where  Paxton  was 
sitting.  Then  he  set  aside  the  pipe  he  had  been 
smoking  and  settled  down  in  his  chair,  a  little  ill 
at  ease.  The  place  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  re- 
garding as  his  home  was  now  a  place  of  business, 
where  sentiment,  for  the  time  being,  should  not  be 
allowed  to  enter.  Men  whom  he  had  treated 
always  as  friends,  even  if  his  treatment  had  been 
anything  but  familiar,  were  now  merely  the  mov- 
ing figures  in  a  contest  in  which  he  was  referee. 
The  fact  did  not  please  him  any  too  well  and  yet 
— it  was  precisely  the  situation  his  imagination 
had  pictured  for  days  and  he  did  not  shrink  from 
the  unpleasantness  of  it. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  waste  either  your  time  or 
my  own,  John,"  Paxton  said  suddenly  and  in  a 
tone  that  clearly  indicated  his  increasing  con- 
fidence in  the  final  outcome  of  the  whole  affair. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  291 

"I  am  ready  to  go  on  anytime,"  John  Mackay 
said  simply. 

"There  need  be  no  delay  on  onr  account," 
Henry  Tyne  observed. 

Paxton  assumed  a  manner  that  was  almost 
pompous.  "I  can  state  my  business  in  a  very 
few  words,"  he  said.  "I  had  hoped  to  have  had 
a  few  minutes  with  you  privately  so  that — " 

"We'll  be  glad  to  withdraw "  Henry  Tyne 

began. 

"I  think  it  would  be  as  well  to  say  what  you 
have  to  say  in  each  other's  hearin',"  John  Mac- 
kay interrupted.  "There'll  be  no  misunder- 
standin',  then,  one  way  or  another.  Anyhow — it's 
business,  an'  business  that  we're  not  ashamed  of. 
We  can  afford  to  talk  about  it  among  ourselves 
openly  and  without  keepin'  anything  back.  Go 
on,  Mr.  Paxton. 

"You  will  remember,"  Paxton  went  on,  "that 
I  was  in  the  field  for  the  Micmac  before  Mr.  Tyne 
secured  the  present  option  on  the  property.  Con- 
ditions I  couldn't  control  made  it  possible  for  Mr. 
Tyne  to  establish  his  position  before  I  could  com- 
plete the  arrangements  I  had  in  mind.  To-day  we 
have  reached  the  time  when  Mr.  Tyne's  option 
expires.  I  am  in  the  field  again  and  am  ready  to 
make  my  offer  as  soon  as  I  know  that  the  pro- 
perty is  on  the  market  again.  It  is  just  as  well, 
perhaps,  that  Mr.  Tyne  is  here.  He  can  tell  us 
pretty  definitely  what  his  intentions  are." 

.  "Mr.  Tyne  has  until  midnight  to-night  to  tell 


292  THE  LOBSTICK  TEAIL 

what  His  intentions  are,"  John  Mackay  reminded 
Paxton. 

' '  There  is  no  need  of  reminding  Mr.  Paxton  of 
that,"  Henry  Tyne  observed  quietly.  "The  time 
is  getting  short  now — it's  only  a  matter  of  a  few 
hours  till  we  know  what  our  position  will  be.  Mrs. 
Curtis  may  be  back  yet,  of  course,  but  I  am  not 
sure  what  will  be  the  nature  of  the  news  she  will 
have  for  us.  It  may  not  be  favorable  when  she 
does  come." 

<rHave  you  any  proposition  to  make,  Mr. 
Tyne  f ' '  John  Mackay  asked. 

"I  have.  The  work  has  gone  on  steadily  on  the 
Micmac  since  the  day  we  secured  an  option  on  the 
property.  We  have  suffered  some  little  setbacks 
and  a  few  obstructions  but  we  have  not  only  lived 
up  to  the  letter  of  our  contract — we  have  done 
more,  actually,  than  the  contract  called  for.  We 
have  done  more  work,  we  have  spent  more  money, 
because  we  have  had  confidence  in  the  property 
and  wanted  to  make  it  show  up. ' ' 

"What  is  your  proposition,  Mr.  Tyne?"  John 
Mackay  urged. 

"It's  this.  I  believe  we  are  entitled  to  some  con- 
cession, Mr.  Mackay.  The  property  has  begun  to 
show  high  grade  ore  in  quantities  that  we  think 
will  bear  out  our  expectations.  We  ought  to  have 
an  opportunity  of  developing  the  property,  say, 
for  another  six  weeks,  or  until  the  freeze-up.  If 
the  showing  continues  good  we  could  then  be  given 
an  opportunity  of  taking  up  the  option  and  buy- 
ing the  property  outright." 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  293 

"You  mean,  then,  to  have  the  option  extended 
for  another  six  weeks  or  so,"  John  Mackay  re- 
marked. 

"If  such  an  arrangement  could  be  reached," 
Henry  Tyne  replied. 

"And  yon,"  John  Mackay  said  turning  towards 
Paxton,  "you  are  lookin'  to  a  year's  option  on  the 
place." 

"That's  what  we're  seeking — and  we're  ready 
to  make  payment  as  soon  as  we  know  the  pro- 
perty has  been  released,"  Paxton  affirmed. 

John  Mackay  sat  a  moment  in  uneasy  silence. 
"It  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Tyne,"  he  said  at  last,  "that 
as  a  matter  of  mere  business  Mr.  Paxton 's  pro- 
position goes  a  little  farther  than  yours  and  ought 
to  be  worth  more." 

He  thought  a  moment  longer.  "Suppose  we 
could  arrange  another  six  weeks,  Mr.  Tyne,  can 
you  pay  me  the  money  for  the  extension  before 
the  expiration  of  our  present  contract?" 

"That  will  depend  again  upon  the  arrival  of 
Mrs.  Curtis,"  Henry  Tyne  admitted. 

"While  I  don't  wish  to  influence  your  judg- 
ment unduly,"  Paxton  offered,  "it  must  be  clear 
that  Mr.  Tyne's  position  is  a  very  uncertain  one. 
It  seems  to  me  that  in  matters  of  this  kind  the  man 
with  the  ready  money  has  the  argument." 

Kirk,  who  had  listened  to  the  discussion  in  sil- 
ence, a  silence  in  which  hope  and  despair  battled 
within  him,  realized  the  full  weight  of  Paxton 's 


294  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

statements.  Money,  after  all,  made  the  argument. 
If  Marion  Curtis  did  not  return,  or  if  she  re- 
turned without  sufficient  money  to  renew  the  con- 
tract, their  case  would  be  hopeless,  the  game  would 
be  up  for  them.  And  then  it  came  to  Kirk  as 
clearly  as  if  a  voice  within  him  had  spoken,  that 
the  value  he  had  placed  on  the  property  was  not 
a  money  value  at  all.  Here  in  the  task  itself  he 
had  found  what  his  heart  had  hungered  for. 
Should  he  be  forced  to  quit,  the  future  and  the 
dreams  he  had  had  would  become  as  nothing.  He 
could  not  bear  the  thought.  He  got  to  his  feet.  He 
stepped  towards  John  Mackay  and  stood  a  mom- 
ent before  him  in  silence  while  his  mind  seized 
more  clearly  the  idea  that  had  suddenly  blossomed 
there. 

"Money,  John  Mackay — money  is  not  the  whole 
argument/*  he  said.  "For  you  who  have  lived 
in  the  north  for  years,  even  for  me,  this  is  not 
altogether  a  case  of  money.  This  is  your  country 
— it  is  my  country — I  never  realized  that  till  just 
now.  You  have  lived  here.  You  don't  want  to  go 
away  from  here.  I  have  lived  here.  I  want  to  go 
on  living  here.  I  want  to  make  this  place  a  better 
place  for  human  beings  to  live — not  a  worse  place. 
I  don't  want  to  take  the  wealth  out  of  here  and 
spend  it  in  the  big  cities.  I  want  to  bring  people 
here — I  want  to  see  men  and  women  here — and 
busy  streets — and  human  life  in  the  making.  I 
want  to  see  some  of  our  dreams — your  dreams  and 
my  dreams — become  facts.  And  that's  why  I 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  295 

want  another  chance  to  make  good.  "We  haven't 

failed— not  yet.  It'll  take  time.  But  he " 

Kirk  pointed  towards  Baxton,  " — he'll  fail  even 
when  he  makes  the  biggest  success  he  ever  dream- 
ed of  making.  He'll  fail  because — because  he 
doesn't  care  for  our  kind  of  success." 

Kirk's  impassioned  appeal  brought  John  Mac- 
kay  out  of  his  uneasy  attitude.  He  sat  forward 
and  reached  again  for  his  pipe.  He  began  filling 
it  leisurely,  looking  at  Kirk  and  then  at  Henry 
Tyne  and  Warren  Paxton  as  if  he  wished  to  see  if 
they  heard  what  he  did. 

"And  what  is  your  proposition,  Brander?"  he 
asked  as  Kirk  made  a  pause. 

"I  have  nothing  to  give,  John  Mackay,"  he  re- 
plied, "nothing  but  a  promise — a  promise  to  go  on 
working  as  I  have  worked — to  show  the  world 
what  we  have  and  to  tell  them  we  don't  go  beg- 
ging— that  they  can  come  to  us.  And  when  we  've 
got  what  we  are  working  for — to  keep  it  here,  to 
build  our  own  city  and  make  our  own  homes  and 
— and  live  our  own  lives." 

"Seems  to  me  we're  getting  away  from  the 
point,"  Paxton  suggested. 

John  Mackay  placed  the  match  to  his  pipe  and 
puffed  a  moment.  "Either  that— or  we  haven't 
been  on  the  point  an'  are  gettin'  to  it  now,"  he 
said  slowly.  "It's  either  one  or  th'  other — that's 
certain." 

Paxton  was  clearly  growing  impatient.  "I've 
made  a  proposition,"  he  said,  "and  Henry  Tyne 


296  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

has  made  a  proposition.  It's  for  yon  to  decide 
between  us,  John." 

"Or  leave  yon  both  ont  of  it,"  John  Mackay 
emiled,  "an'  talk  business  with  Brander." 

^Brander  hasn't  put  a  business  proposition,  at 
all,"  Paxton  protested.  "He's  got  a  lot  of  poor 
eentiment  that  isn't  worth  a  dollar — and  senti- 
ment won 't  run  a  mine. ' ' 

"Well,"  John  Mackay  observed,  getting  up 
from  his  chair  as  a  signal  that  the  discussion  was 
at  an  end  for  the  present  at  least,  "a  man  must 
have  time  to  think.  Nothing  can  be  done  about  it 
till  midnight  anyhow — that's  some  hours  off.  By 
that  time  I'll  be  asleep  an'  won't  be  movin'  round 
much  before  sun-up  to-morrow  mornin'.  When 
I've  slept  on  it  for  a  night — thought  it  over  in  my 
own  bed  and  on  my  own  place — there'll  be  time 
enough  to  talk  about  it." 

He  went  to  the  door  of  his  cabin  and  looking  out, 
drew  a  deep  breath  as  if  he  wished  to  brace  him- 
self to  meet  the  problem  he  was  facing. 

"There's  some  of  your  men  waitin'  outside,  Mr. 
Paxton,"  he  said,  looking  at  Paxton  with 
questioning  eyes.  * '  Are  they  lookin '  for  you  f ' ' 

Paxton  went  to  the  doorway  and  glanced  out. 
"I'll  be  going  now,"  he  said  without  seeming  to 
notice  the  four  men  who  were  standing  between 
the  cabin  and  the  water's  edge. 

Kirk  turned  suddenly  from  where  he  had  been 
standing  and  following  Paxton,  cast  his  eyes 
about  him,  A  vague  suspicion  arose  in  his  mind. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TKAIL  297 

He  stepped  quickly  towards  Paxton  and  laid  his 
hand  heavily  on  his  shoulder. 

Paxton  turned  and  gave  him  a  vicious  look. 
' '  Take  your  hands  off  me, ' '  he  commanded. 

Kirk's  grip  tightened.  "What  are  these  men 
doing  here?"  he  asked. 

*' Young  fellow,  it's  none  of  your  damn'  busi- 
ness," Paxton  snapped.  "They're  not  on  your 
property." 

Suddenly  from  the  bushes  into  which  ran  the 
trail  to  the  Micmac,  old  man  Bags  emerged.  Even 
at  a  distance  Kirk  could  see  that  the  old  man  was 
excited.  When  he  saw  Kirk  he  stopped  suddenly. 

' l  Come  on,  Kirk ! "  he  called.  * '  Get  back  to  the 
creek!" 

Paxton  placed  himself  between  Kirk  and  Dags. 
"Take  a  word  of  advice  from  me,  Brander,"  he 
said,  "and  stay  where  you  are." 

Paxton 's  men  moved  up  from  the  shore  of  the 
lake  and  loitered  near  the  trail.  Their  movements 
were  casual  and  showed  no  outward  indication 
that  they  were  fulfilling  any  prearranged  plan. 
But  Kirk  was  taking  no  chances. 

"I'm  going  down  that  trail,  Paxton,"  he  said 
quietly.  * '  Get  your  men  out  of  my  way. » ' 

He  swept  Paxton  to  one  side,  observing  as  he 
did  so  that  the  attitude  of  the  men  standing  be- 
fore him  had  suddenly  changed.  Their  movements 
plainly  expressed  their  purpose.  Kirk  leaped  to 
one  side  to  avoid  Paxton 's  rush  and  seizing  a 
double-bitted  axe  that  stood  against  a  log  where 


298  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

John  Mackay  prepared  his  fuel,  lifted  it  and  turn- 
ed to  face  them.  For  a  moment  only  he  pansed 
and  set  himself  for  the  rush.  When  they  came  at 
him  he  leaped  towards  them  swinging  the  axe  and 
shouting  his  warning.  The  suddenness  of  his  at- 
tack and  the  fierceness  with  which  he  came  down 
upon  them  was  more  than  they  could  be  expected 
to  withstand.  As  he  leaped  first  at  one  and  then 
at  another  they  fell  back  and  left  the  trail  clear 
before  him. 

Dropping  the  axe  he  ran  towards  Dags  and  to- 
gether they  hurried  off  down  the  trail.  "When  they 
had  come  within  a  hundred  yards  of  their  own 
camp  Dags  spoke,  his  words  coming  hurriedly 
and  brokenly  as  he  struggled  for  breath. 

"Get  down  to  the  cabin — Allen's  cabin/'  he 
said.  '  *  She  was  up — Jule — came  up  here.  They  're 
goin*  to  get  Tuck — there's  something  down  there 
— they're  goin'  to  stop  him — he  can't  get  through. 
She  had  to  go  back — Phil  has  her  watched — get 
down." 

What  Dags  had  tried  to  tell  Kirk  in  his  in- 
coherent and  excited  manner  Kirk  himself  veri- 
fied a  few  minutes  later.  Hurrying  through  the 
woods,  he  heard  men  talking  and  when  he  emerged 
into  the  open  space  in  which  stood  Jule  Allen's 
cabin,  he  realized  that  a  deliberate  plan  had  been 
worked  out  to  make  it  impossible  for  Tuck  Roberts 
to  get  through  to  the  camp,  provided  he  should 
make  the  attempt  any  time  before  midnight.  If 
he  did  not  arrive  before  midnight,  it  didn't  matter 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  299 

whether  he  came  at  all.  But  Paxton  had  done  all 
in  his  power  to  provide  against  Tuck's  coming  at 
the  last  moment  and  upsetting  his  hopes  just  when 
they  seemed  on  the  point  of  being  realized. 

He  ran  to  the  cabin,  threw  the  door  open  sud- 
denly and  stepped  inside.  As  he  did  so  Phil 
Eoche  and  Jule  turned  to  face  him.  The  look  of 
surprise  in  Eoche 's  face  changed  suddenly  to  a 
scowl  of  anger.  But  Kirk's  eyes  were  upon  Jule 
Allen's  face.  There  was  pain  there  and  pleading, 
and  then,  suddenly,  defiance. 

"  Kirk!  "she  cried. 

Eoehe  turned  on  her  with  a  look  that  com- 
manded silence.  Jule  moved  into  a  position  where 
the  table  in  the  centre  of  the  floor  stood  between 
her  and  Roche. 

"Ill  speak  if  I  wish,"  she  said,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing defiantly  at  Eoche.  Then,  turning  to  Kirk  she 
continued.  * '  They  are  going  to  stop  Tuck  Eoberts 
— they  are  not  going  to  let  him  come — something 
is  happening — something  that  is  terrible.  Euth 
has  been  here  and  has  told  me.  But  you  mustn't 

let  them  touch  him for  Euth's  sake,  Kirk,  for 

Euth 's  sake!" 

Kirk  looked  at  Eoche.  "You  can't  do  that, 
Phil,"  he  said,  going  towards  Jule  and  standing 
beside  her. 

Eoche  leaned  across  the  table  towards  Kirk. 
"We're  goin'  to  do  it— and  we're  doin'  it  now," 
he  said. 


(20) 


300  THE  LOBSTICK  TKAIL 

" What's  the  idea?"  Kirk  asked  struggling  to 
retain  his  self-control. 

Boche  's  face  darkened.  *  *  What 's  the  idea  f "  he 
retorted.  "You're  the  idea — you  and  him  and 
your  whole  gang!  You  think  you  can  get  away 
with  it  all  the  time — you  think  no  on6  will  stop 
you.  Well,  I'll  stop  you!  You've  won — I've  lost. 
Here's  where  we  call  a  show-down,  Brander." 

Kirk  was  not  the  kind  of  man  to  hold  a  grudge. 
Boche 's  foul  tactics  in  the  dog  Derby  and  his  inter- 
ference on  behalf  of  Paxton's  interests  during  the 
summer  would  have  been  sufficient  cause  for 
anger.  But  in  these  things,  after  all,  Kirk  had 
been  victor.  The  suspicion,  however,  that  Eoche 
had  been  at  least  indirectly  responsible  for  the 
death  of  Wally  Lament  made  his  blood  hot  as  he 
stood  and  faced  him.  And  Boche  was  now  carry- 
ing out  his  plans  directed  against  Tuck  Boberts. 
What  those  plans  were  he  could  only  guess.  Jule 
Allen's  warning  had  made  him  wonder. 

"But  where  does  Tuck  come  into  this?"  he  ask- 
ed Boche. 

Boche  leaned  closer  across  the  table.  "You 
might  just  as  well  get  this  straight  now  as  later," 
he  said.  "Tuck  Boberts  is  playin'  into  our  hands. 
Tuck's  wanted  outside — wanted  bad — an'  they've 
got " 

"Wanted  for  what!"  Kirk  asked  In  bewildered 
fashion. 

"Ask  Willoughby,"  Boche  replied,  "he  knows. 
What  I've  got  to  tell  you  is  that  if  he  tries  comin' 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  301 

in  here  now  an'  spoilin'  onr  plans,  we're  goin*  to 
spoil  some  things  for  Mm." 

For  a  moment  Kirk  was  struck  dnnib.  He  tnrned 
to  Jule  with  a  look  of  appeal  bnt  she  tnrned  away 
and  pnt  her  hands  over  her  face.  Suddenly  the 
simple  facts  of  the  case  came  npon  him  in  full 
force.  Somewhere,  in  all  probability,  Tnck  in  his 
eagerness  to  reach  the  camp  before  it  was  too  late, 
was  at  that  moment  hurrying  into  the  trap  that 
Paxton  and  Eoche  had  set  for  him.  Outside  the 
cabin,  waiting  on  the  shores  of  the  creek,  were  men 
of  Paxton ?s  gang  and  just  across  the  creek,  with- 
in his  own  province,  Willoughby  waited  with  the 
authority  of  the  law  behind  him.  For  the  moment 
he  forgot  the  mission  upon  which  Tuck  had  em- 
barked. He  forgot  Henry  Tyne  and  the  Micmac. 
He  forgot  the  vision  he  had  had  that  afternoon, 
the  vision  of  his  own  future.  He  thought  only  of 
the  man  that  had  been  his  friend.  He  turned  from 
Jule  and  started  for  the  open  doorway.  But  Roche, 
anticipating  his  move,  sprang  ahead  of  him  and 
throwing  the  door  shut  stood  with  his  back 
against  it. 

*  *  Get  back,  Brander, ' '  he  commanded.  "Here 's 
where  the  game  goes  on  without  you." 

Kirk  recoiled,  stepped  back  a  couple  of  paces 
and  looked  at  Roche.  The  look  of  quick  anger  left 
his  face.  In  its  place  there  came  something  dark, 
grim,  resolute.  This  was  not  the  Kirk  Brander  of 
the  dog  race  and  of  the  fight  at  the  dock.  It  was 
not  the  Kirk  Brander  who  had  met  Phil  Koche  on 


302  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

the  water  and  had  given  battle  in  a  canoe  more  for 
the  sheer  love  of  fighting  and  the  sport  of  it  than 
anything  else.  He  was  rather  the  man  who  had 
gazed  upon  the  frozen  form  of  Wally  Lamonte  and 
had  gone  almost  mad  from  the  sight.  He  raised 
himself  to  his  full  height  and  then  crouched  low  as 
he  regarded  the  face  of  the  man  who  stood  between 
him  and  the  help  he  wanted  to  give  Tuck  Roberts. 

"Roche,"  he  said  between  set  teeth,  "get  back 
from  that  door. " 

For  reply  Roche  moved  a  step  towards  him  and 
stood  on  the  defensive.  Kirk  moved  back  a  couple 
of  paces  until  he  stood  beside  Jule  Allen. 

"See  him,"  he  said  without  looking  at  her. 
"That  man  killed  Wally  Lamonte." 

Roche's  face  became  vicious  as  he  looked  at  Jule 
and  then  back  again  at  Kirk.  "That's  a  lie,"  he 
hissed. 

But  Kirk  did  not  seem  to  hear  the  denial.  "He 
left  him  on  the  trail  without  dogs,"  he  went  on. 
"Isn't  that  killing  I  He  knows.  Now  he's  after 
Tuck." 

Roche  came  towards  him  sullenly. 

"Back,  Jule,"  Kirk  said  sternly,  "back  out  of 
the  way." 

He  put  one  hand  out  to  push  her  away  and  for 
a  moment  he  felt  her  hands  close  over  his  fingers. 

"Kirk,  Kirk,"  she  said  in  a  voice  that  was  little 
more  than  a  whisper. 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice  Roche  sprang  forward 
and  Kirk  stepped  back  quickly,  "With  a  sweep  of 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  303 

his  arms  lie  cleared  the  table  and  a  couple  of 
chairs  from  the  centre  of  the  floor  and  turned  with 
the  same  movement  to  meet  Roche  who  was  bear- 
ing down  on  him.  As  they  closed  suddenly  with  a 
rush,  the  door  opened  and  Henry  Tyne  entered.  A 
cry  from  Jule  brought  the  old  man  to  her  side.  In 
that  one  tense  moment  Kirk's  ears  caught  the 
sound  of  the  girl's  voice  and  then — the  sound  of 
his  old  uncle 's  voice  calling  his  name.  From  then 
on  he  heard  nothing,  saw  nothing  but  the  man 
whose  rushes  he  met  with  his  own,  knew  nothing 
but  the  stern  business  he  had  in  hand.  Once  in 
a  moment's  pause  he  looked  over  Eoche 's  shoulder 
and  saw  Paxton's  form  near  the  door.  Already 
it  was  nearing  sunset  and  the  bulky  figure  in  the 
half  dusk  of  the  cabin's  interior  looked  to  Kirk 
like  an  evil  ghost  that  had  entered  without  sound 
or  movement. 

But  the  one  glimpse  he  had  of  Paxton  awakened 
the  instinct  of  primitive  hate.  He  tore  into  his 
antagonist  with  the  reckless  fury  of  a  madman. 
Roche  met  him  and  borne  back  by  the  force  of 
Kirk's  rush  seized  him  round  the  body  and  clung 
to  him  with  the  tenacity  of  one  in  despair.  For 
several  seconds  they  struck  at  close  range,  madly, 
almost  blindly.  When  they  broke  from  each  other 
again,  Eoche  seemed  content  to  stand  in  his 
tracks  while  he  struggled  for  breath.  But  Kirk 
was  in  no  mood  to  allow  the  fight  to  lag.  Gathering 
his  remaining  strength  he  sprang  forward  again 
with  the  full  weight  of  Ms  body  behind  the  blow. 


304  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

This  time  Roche  tried  awkwardly  to  avoid  the 
rash,  then,  finding  it  impossible  to  escape,  seized 
Kirk  once  more  in  his  arms  and  bore  down.  Under 
the  force  of  the  attack  the  two  men  lurched  over 
the  table  where  it  stood  against  the  wall  and 
Kirk  felt  Roche's  weight  sag  helplessly  under 
him. 

Realizing  that  it  was  over,  Kirk  was  content  to 
rest  a  moment,  holding  Roche  on  his  back  across 
the  table.  Roche  made  a  last  desperate  struggle 
to  rise,  and  then  relaxed.  He  was  beaten  and  he 
knew  it.  For  a  moment  there  was  no  sound  but 
the  labored  breathing  of  the  two  men.  Neither 
spoke  a  word.  Suddenly  a  cry  of  warning  from 
Jule  and  Henry  Tyne  caused  Kirk  to  spring  back 
quickly  and  look  behind  him.  In  the  dim  light  of 
the  cabin  he  saw  Paxton  rushing  towards  him.  He 
had  lifted  a  chair  above  his  head  and  was  almost 
on  top  of  him  before  he  realized  what  was  hap- 
pening. Instead  of  backing  away  he  sprang  to- 
wards Paxton  and  shot  under  his  arms  before  he 
had  time  to  bring  the  chair  down.  Paxton 's  breath 
issued  in  a  kind  of  lengthened  grunt.  His  arms 
fell  about  Kirk  in  a  helpless  embrace  and  the  chair 
clattered  to  the  floor.  In  his  face,  turned  towards 
Roche,  there  was  the  appeal  of  a  man  in  despair. 
But  Roche,  who  had  sat  up  the  moment  he  was 
relieved  of  Kirk's  weight  had  seen  Paxton 's  move, 
remained  where  he  was  and  replied  to  Paxton  ?s 
appeal  with  a  smile  that  was  plainly  expressive  of 
contempt.  Kirk  slipped  his  toe  around  one  of  Pax- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  305 


ton's  ankles  and  with  a  vigorous  pnsh  sent 
sprawling  on  his  back  upon  the  floor  in  one  corner 
of  the  room.  Eoche's  smile  was  one  almost  of 
amusement.  But  Kirk,  in  the  madness  that  pos- 
sessed him,  turned  again  to  meet  the  rush  he  ex- 
pected from  Eoche,  and  to  meet  it  with  a  rush  of 
his  own  that  would  bring  the  struggle  definitely  to 
an  end.  He  did  not  see  the  look  in  Eoche's  face, 
or  seeing  it  did  not  understand.  He  was  fighting 
two  ways  now  and  Paxton's  tactics  had  merely 
quickened  his  determination  and  heightened  his 
fury.  The  two  men  stood  a  moment  looking  at 
each  other.  Then  Eoche  found  his  voice. 

"That'll  do,  Brander,"  he  said  thickly.  "I'm 
not  fightin'  double." 

Paxton  had  got  to  his  feet  and  was  giving  free 
expression  to  his  opinion  of  Eoche  in  rounds  of 
lurid  profanity.  Kirk  backed  away  from  Eoche 
cautiously  and  then  turned  suddenly  upon  Paxton. 
Before  the  threat  of  another  infuriated  attack 
Paxton's  self-control  returned  almost  miracu- 
lously. 

"Get  out  there  and  call  your  men  off,"  Kirk  de- 
manded. 

But  Kirk  was  never  to  know  how  Paxton  would 
have  responded.  The  door  burst  suddenly  open 
and  against  the  waning  light  of  the  outside  the 
figure  of  Marion  Curtis  appeared.  She  rushed 
towards  Kirk  and  stood  before  him,  her  hands  on 
his  arm,  unable  to  speak. 

"Where's  Tuck?"  Kirk  asked  quickly. 


306  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"Quick,  quick, "  she  replied  urging  him  towards 
the  door.  * '  They  have  taken  him ! ' ' 

Shouts  of  men  without  startled  them  and  for- 
getting for  the  moment  the  struggle  that  had  en- 
grossed their  attention  within  the  cabin,  all  rush- 
ed together  to  the  doorway  following  closely  upon 
Kirk's  heels.  A  shot  sounded  from  the  opposite 
shore  of  the  creek.  Then  another — and  a  third.  A 
canoe  shot  from  the  cover  of  an  overhanging 
clump  of  willows  and  darted  into  the  current.  In 
the  middle  of  the  canoe  sat  Tuck  Roberts.  Behind 
him  was  Joe  Bedard  and  in  front,  Euth  Mackay. 
A  fourth  shot  sounded  from  the  farther  shore  and 
Tuck  crouched  suddenly  in  the  canoe  as  if  he  had 
been  hit.  All  at  once  the  canoe  seemed  to  leap 
forward  as  it  dropped  downward  into  the  main 
current  and  headed  for  the  centre  of  the  rapids. 
The  frantic  efforts  of  Joe  Bedard  were  helpless 
against  the  power  that  drove  them  downward.  The 
swirling  current  swept  the  canoe  first  to  one  side 
and  then  to  the  other  but  always  madly  forward 
and  directly  towards  the  spot  where  the  water 
rounded  over  the  rock-ledge  and  plunged  below. 
Above  the  roaring  of  the  rapids,  the  voices  of  the 
men  on  the  shore  shouted  warning  and  for  a  mom- 
ent there  was  neither  prejudice  nor  hate  among 
them;  there  was  only  hope  that  by  some  super- 
human feat  of  skill  or  strength  the  rapids  might 
be  beaten  and  the  canoe  pass  downward  with  its 
burden  to  the  quiet  level  of  the  water  below.  Even 
Phil  Boche,  who  had  rushed  with  Kirk  to  the  edge 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  307 

of  the  creek,  muttered  something  under  his  breath 
that  might  have  been  taken  for  either  an  impre- 
cation or  a  prayer  and  that  probably  partook  of 
the  nature  of  both. 

As  the  bow  of  the  canoe  approached  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  critical  point  in  the  rapids,  Bedard, 
by  a  frantic  effort  swung  it  into  the  very 
middle  of  the  main  current.  Their  only  hope  lay 
in  keeping  free  from  the  rocks.  Then  as  it  shot 
over  the  edge,  and  just  before  it  dipped  down 
again  to  take  the  water,  he  got  almost  to  his  feet, 
struck  out  and  forward  with  his  paddle  to  throw 
them  clear  of  a  boulder,  settled  back  to  give  more 
balance  to  the  canoe  and,  with  the  course  open  be- 
fore them,  sat  with  both  hands  gripping  the  gun- 
wales and  trusted  to  fortune  for  the  rest. 

A  shout  arose  as  the-  canoe  passed  what 
seemed  to  be  the  most  dangerous  point  in  the 
rapids  and  then  suddenly  swerved,  almost  stopped, 
took  another  drop  downwards,  stood  for  the 
thousandth  part  of  a  second  with  its  bow  in 
the  air  and  the  stern  low,  and  then,  with- 
out the  slightest  apparent  warning,  flopped 
over  sidewise,  and  backwards  like  a  great  awk- 
ward fish  sporting  itself  in  the  water.  No  word 
came  from  those  in  the  canoe.  On  the  shore  there 
arose  a  cry  almost  of  anguish  as  the  men  rushed 
downwards  along  the  pathway  and  plunged  into 
the  stream  to  render  what  assistance  they  could 
to  the  three  who  had  disappeared  in  the  water. 


CHAPTEE  XXV. 

AN  hour  later  Kirk  Brander  bore  the  form 
of  Euth  Mackay  up  the  narrow  pathway  be- 
side the  rapids  and  into  Jule  Allen's  cabin. 
The  men  gave  way  before  him  leaving  the  way 
open  and  unobstructed.  With  him  was  Joe  Bedard 
who  had  got  himself  out  unharmed  and  had  stayed 
to  help  the  others  look  for  Euth  Mackay,  who  had 
not  come  to  the  surface  again  after  she  had  been 
drawn  under  by  the  back- wash  at  the  foot  of  the 
rapids.  Within  the  cabin  Jule  Allen  was  busy 
dressing  a  wound  in  Tuck  Eoberts'  shoulder 
where  one  of  Willoughby's  shots  had  found  its 
mark.  Kirk  laid  his  burden  on  the  bed  in  Jule's 
room  and  turned  to  speak  to  Marion  Curtis  who 
had  followed  him  from  the  outer  room. 

"This  is  bad,"  he  said  gravely.  "Has  anyone 
gone  for  John  Mackay?" 

"Your  uncle  went  a  few  minutes  ago,"  Marion 
Curtis  replied.  i '  Is  there  no  hope  at  all  f " 

Kirk  shook  his  head.  "We  worked  for  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour  without  the  slightest  result," 
he  replied.  "How's  Tuck?" 

"Jule  is  dressing  his  shoulder." 

As  she  spoke  Tuck  himself  entered  the  room, 
Ms  face  white  and  drawn.  Silently  he  stood  and 

308 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  309 

looked  down  at  the  white  face  of  Bnth  Mackay. 
Then  he  turned  away  and  went  into  the  outer  room 
of  the  cabin  where  he  sat  down  on  a  bench  and 
bowed  his  head. 

Kirk  turned  away  and  looked  at  Marion  Curtis. 
"It  isn't  worth  all  this,"  he  said  slowly. 

Together  they  left  the  room  and  went  out  to 
wait  for  John  Mackay  and  Henry  Tyne  to  arrive. 
In  Kirk's  heart  there  burned  a  desire  to  get  from 
Tuck  an  explanation  of  all  that  had  happened  but 
a  glance  at  Tuck's  face  made  that  impossible.  He 
followed  Marion  Curtis  to  the  window  and  looked 
out  towards  the  river  where  a  group  of  men  were 
still  standing  talking  among  themselves. 

' 'We  have  lost  out  all  around,"  Marion  Curtis 
said  in  a  voice  that  was  meant  only  for  Kirk's 
ears. 

Kirk  faced  her  suddenly.  "You  mean — you 
mean  you  didn't  bring  back  anything?"  he  asked. 

' '  Nothing  that  will  help, ' '  she  replied.  '  *  It  will 
take  more  time.  One  can't  perform  miracles — 
and  that's  what  I  undertook  when  I  went  out." 

"How  much  time?"  Kirk  asked. 

"Two  months  at  least — but  we  haven't  even 
enough  to  pay  for  an  extension  of  the  option." 

Kirk  turned  from  the  window.  Jule  Allen  was 
entering  the  room  where  he  had  laid  Ruth  Mackay. 
Quietly  he  left  Marion  Curtis  and  walked  to  the 
door  of  the  room.  He  paused  and  looked  at  Jule 
as  she  stood  with  her  hand  on  the  hair  of  the  girl 
who  had  been  her  sole  companion  during  the  sum- 


310  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

mer.  Then  as  he  stepped  through  the  doorway 
and  stood  near  the  foot  of  the  bed,  she  came  to 
him  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm  silently.  As  he 
looked  at  her,  the  announcement  of  Marion  Cur- 
tis '  failure  came  to  him  with  added  significance. 

"This  looks  like  the  end,"  he  said  quietly. 
"Marion " 

"She  has  told  me,"  Jule  interrupted  him. 

Kirk  turned  from  her  a  little  and  laid  a  hand 
gently  on  her  shoulder.  1 1 1  didn  't  think — I  'd  have 
to — to  give  it  up, ' '  he  said.  l '  I  don 't  want  to  leave 
it — I  can't  leave  it — I  can't  go  back  there." 

The  outer  door  opened  and  John  Mackay  and 
Henry  Tyne  entered  together.  As  the  two  older 
men  came  into  the  room  Jule  and  Kirk  withdrew 
and  left  them  alone. 

Taking  his  hat,  Kirk  went  to  the  door  and 
opened  it.  It  was  growing  dark  and  there  would 
be  some  things  to  do  at  the  camp,  where  he  had 
left  Dags  alone  in  charge  of  the  work  ever  since 
he  had  gone  to  John  Mackay 's  cabin  early  that 
afternoon.  It  seemed  now  that  days  had  passed 
since  that  visit  to  John  Mackay.  Well,  he  had  done 
what  he  could.  The  dream  he  had  cherished 
secretly  for  weeks  had  been  shattered.  The  future 
looked  very  dark  and  about  him  now  was  no  order, 
no  plan,  nothing  but  confusion  and  cross  purposes. 
With  a  word  to  Tuck  to  follow  him,  he  put  on  his 
hat  and  went  out. 

When  he  had  stepped  out  he  saw  a  group  of  men 
standing  between  the  cabin  and  the  creek.  As  he 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  311 

looked  at  them  Phil  Roche  drew  away  from  the 
others  and  advanced  towards  him.  Kirk  sent 
Tuck  along  the  trail  and  waited  himself  for  Roche. 

"Brander,"  said  Roche  when  he  stood  finally 
before  Kirk,  "this  thing  is  over  for  me.  I'm  get- 
tin'  out.  An'  the  reason  ain't  you — an'  it  ain't 
her."  He  nodded  his  head  towards  the  cabin. 
"It's  the  boss  over  there.  This  wouldn't  'a'  hap- 
pened only— he's  a  crook.  He's  pulled  all  the 
crooked  stuff  that's  been  done  in  this  game.  Now 
I  'm  gettin '  out.  I  'm  goin '  in  north  for  the  winter 
an '  you  won 't  hear  from  me.  I  figure  we  both  lost, 
Brander,  when  we  came  in  on  this.  I  lost,  that's 
sure — an'  you  didn't  get  anything  out  of  it.  So 
long." 

He  waited  a  moment  for  Kirk  to  make  some 
response  but  Kirk  was  thinking  very  hard  and  was 
silent.  Only  when  Roche  turned  to  go  did  he  fin- 
ally speak. 

"Phil,"  he  said  in  a  voice  that  was  firm  witK 
resolution  to  see  the  whole  affair  through  to 
the  end,  "who  framed  that  fur-stealing  on 
Tuck?" 

Roche  took  a  step  towards  him.  "Brander,"  he 
said,  "that  wasn't  my  work.  I  don't  know  who 
did  that.  But  I  do  know  that  you  're  makin '  a  mis- 
take in  stickin '  to  Tuck.  He 's  good  enough  just  as 
he  is  but — Tuck's  got  a  record,  Brander,  an'  yon 
can't  afford  to  keep  him  round." 

Kirk  had  heard  enough  about  his  friend,  Tuck 
Roberts,  to  set  him  to  wondering, 


812  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

"What  do  yon  know  about  Tuck?"  lie  asked 
quickly. 

" Tuck  11  tell  you  himself,  I  reckon,"  Roche  re- 
plied. "He's  got  no  chance  unless  he  gets  out  an' 
he's  got  to  get  out  good  and  quick  or  he'll  not  find 
the  go  in'  any  too  easy.  If  he's  goin'  my  direc- 
tion, tell  him  he's  welcome." 

Kirk  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  Koche 's  chan- 
ged attitude. 

"You'd  help  him  get  away?"  he  asked. 

Roche  sniffed  impatiently.  "What's  the  use, 
Brander?"  he  replied.  "This  ain't  any  repent- 
ance stuff  I'm  pullin' — not  a  little  bit — but  I've 
been  in  the  wrong  kind  of  a  game.  I  don't  know 
how  to  play  it  with  men  like  W.  K.  P.  I  might 
just  as  well  admit  I  'm  stuck  but — I  Ve  had  the  ex- 
perience an' — never  again!" 

Kirk  felt,  somehow,  that  Eoche  was  sincere.  One 
thing  more,  however,  he  wanted  him  to  make  clear. 
He  stepped  so  close  to  Roche  that  their  faces  al- 
most met. 

"Who  took  Lamonte's  dogs,  Phil?"  he  asked. 

Roche's  countenance  fell  slowly  and  he  turned 
away.  "I'm  gettin'  out,  Brander,"  he  said,  "an' 
that — that's  the  real  reason.  I  thought  you  knew 
that." 

He  walked  away  and  Kirk  stood  watching  him 
until  he  had  disappeared  in  the  dusk.  His  con- 
fession had  affected  Kirk  strangely.  Roche  could 
have  defended  himself  against  the  law.  He  could 
never  have  escaped  the  wrath  of  the  men  of  the 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  313 

northland,  however,  had  they  come  to  know  what 
he  had  done.  That  he  should  thus  have  thrown 
himself  entirely  on  Kirk's  mercy  was  an  indica- 
tion that  he  had  completely  surrendered.  And  as 
Kirk  turned  away  he  felt  that  he  had  some  reason 
to  feel  grateful  to  Phil  Eoche.  A  man,  after  all, 
who  can  confess  his  wrongs  and  can  sacrifice 
everything,  as  Eoche  was  doing,  because  of  them, 
was  not  beyond  redemption.  And  Kirk  knew  that 
for  Phil  Eoche  to  leave  the  place  in  which  Jule 
Allen  moved  and  never  return  to  it  was  an  atone- 
ment that  few  men  would  have  made  for  the  great- 
est sin  they  had  ever  committed. 

He  turned  away  and  joined  Tuck  Eoberts  wait- 
ing for  him  in  the  shadows.  And  all  the  way  back 
to  the  camp  Kirk's  mind  struggled  with  what  Phil 
Eoche  had  told  him.  He  would  have  asked  Tuck  to 
explain  it  all,  to  tell  him  the  whole  truth  about  his 
past  life,  but  their  four  years  together  had  taught 
him  the  value  of  a  friendship  that  was  taken  on 
its  own  merits  and  no  questions  asked.  He  would 
wait  until  Tuck  himself  volunteered  to  speak. 

An  hour  later  Marion  Curtis  stood  in  the  open 
doorway  of  the  cabin  and  looked  at  the  woods  and 
the  creek  and  the  lake,  all  pale  under  the  starlight. 
Jule  Allen  stood  beside  her.  Behind  them  John 
Mackay  and  Henry  Tyne  sat  together  at  the  table. 
Their  voices  broke  the  silence  only  at  long  inter- 
vals and  their  words  were  little  more  than  whis- 
perings. In  one  corner  Joe  Bedard  sat  on  the 
floor,  his  back  against  the  wall. 


314  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

Marion  Curtis  had  told  Jule  the  story  of  her  own 
failure  and  the  two  were  now  under  the  deeper 
gloom  that  had  fallen  upon  the  place.  Presently 
from  the  creek  shore  a  shadow  came  towards  the 
cabin.  They  both  recognized  Warren  Paxton  at 
once.  Marion  Curtis  touched  Jule  lightly  on  the 
arm  and  whispered  to  her. 

"Go  in  and  close  the  door.  I  want  to  speak  to 
Mm  alone  for  a  minute." 

Jule  withdrew  and  Marion  stepped  out.  When 
the  door  was  closed  behind  her  she  went  directly 
towards  Paxton. 

* '  Good  evening, ' '  he  said  in  his  usual  nonchalant 
manner. 

She  returned  his  greeting  and  stood  before  him. 

"It  may  be  none  of  my  business,"  she  said,  "but 
you  are  on  your  way  to  see  John  Mackay,  aren't 
you?" 

"I  had  that  in  mind,"  he  admitted.  "The  oc- 
casion— " 

"Not  on  business,"  she  interrupted. 

* '  That  was  not  my  main  idea, ' '  he  replied.  ' '  Of 
course — " 

"Just  a  minute,  Warren  Paxton.  I  always  knew 
you  were  thick-skinned.  But  this  is  going  a  little 
too  far.  You  will  not  talk  business  with  John 
Mackay  to-night." 

"I  am  making  every  allowance  for  the  deli- 
cacies of  the  situation,  Marion  Curtis,"  he  res- 
ponded. '"But  you  must  realize — " 

"I  realize  one  thing  just  now,"  she  put  i& 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  315 

again,  "and  that  is  that  yon  will  stay  away  al- 
together unless,  for  once,  you  are  willing  to  act 
as  I  wish  in  the  matter/' 

"I'm  in  no  mood  to  have  you  interfere  with 
what  is  entirely  my  own  affair,"  Paxton  blustered. 

"I  have  moods,  too,  Warren  Paxton,"  she  re- 
minded him.  * '  Just  now  I  don 't  want  you  in  there. 
I'm  not  so  sure  that  you  would  be  very  welcome 
anyhow." 

"That's  my  affair — and  I'm  quite  capable  of 
looking  after  it  myself." 

He  brushed  roughly  past  her  and  strode  towards 
the  cabin.  When  he  reached  the  door  she  spoke 
again. 

"You  are  going  to  force  me  to  do  something 
very  unpleasant,"  she  warned  him. 

His  answer  was  a  grin  that  Marion  Curtis 
could  not  see  from  where  she  stood  in  the  darkness 
and  he  opened  the  door  abruptly  and  went  in.  A 
few  minutes  later  there  came  the  sound  of  a  foot- 
fall on  the  trail  from  the  Micmac.  In  a  moment 
the  form  of  Kirk  Brander  moved  out  of  the  sha- 
dows. He  had  completed  his  work  at  the  camp 
and  was  returning  for  Henry  Tyne.  When  he 
came  before  the  cabin  he  stopped  suddenly  and 
looked  at  Marion  Curtis.  She  hastened  towards 
him  and  he  met  her  half  way. 

"Go  on  in,"  she  said  quickly.  "Paxton  has  gone 
in  and  he's  just  fool  enough  now  to  cause  trouble." 

Together  they  went  towards  the  cabin.  Before 
entering,  Marion  Curtis  laid  a  hand  on  Kirk's 

(21) 


316  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

arm  and  lie  paused  with  his  hand  almost  on  the 
latch.  For  a  moment  she  debated  something  in 
her  own  mind  without  speaking.  Then  suddenly 
her  manner  changed  and  she  led  the  way  into  the 
cabin. 

What  she  had  feared  had  already  taken  place 
except  that  Paxton  had  somehow  or  other  man- 
aged the  discussion  in  a  way  that  permitted  no  ap- 
parent resentment  on  the  part  of  John  Mackay. 
He  had  taken  his  place  at  the  table  with  Henry 
Tyne  and  the  old  prospector  and  was  talking  as 
pleasantly  as  if  he  had  come  to  pay  a  friendly  call. 
John  Mackay  was  listening  silently  and  Henry 
Tyne's  head  was  bowed.  Kirk  and  Marion  moved 
quietly  towards  the  table  at  which  the  three  men 
were  seated  and  stood  above  them. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  hurry  matters,"  Paxton  said 
drawing  some  papers  from  his  pocket  and  placing 
them  on  the  table  before  him,  "but  as  business 
men  we  all  understand,  I  think,  just  what  the  situ- 
ation is.  There  are  urgent  matters  outside  await- 
ing our  decision  here  and  my  men  must  leave  in 
the  morning." 

He  opened  the  papers  and  laid  them  before  John 
Mackay  with  as  little  ostentation  as  possible.  He 
apparently  did  not  mean  to  offend.  But  the  mere 
crackling  of  the  paper  as  he  smoothed  it  out  on  the 
table  seemed  out  of  place  where  all  had  been  so 
silent  before.  John  Mackay  glanced  at  the  papers 
a  moment  without  touching  them  and  in  the  deep 
silence  Paxton  '&  heavy  breathing  was  the  only 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  317 

audible  sound  as  they  waited.  Marion  Curtis 
seemed  on  the  point  of  speaking  but  she  admitted 
to  herself  that  any  word  from  her  would  only 
make  the  situation  less  tolerable.  Henry  Tyne  sat 
low  in  his  chair,  the  tips  of  his  fingers  pressed  to- 
gether nervously.  Kirk  looked  long  at  his  uncle 
and  then  fought  with  all  his  strength  against  the 
desire  that  arose  within  him  to  seize  Paxton  and 
throw  him  out. 

Quietly  and  slowly  John  Mackay  lifted  the 
papers  from  the  table  and  began  reading  them,  his 
lips  moving  as  he  did  so,  but  making  no  sound. 
When  Paxto  ndrew  from  the  inner  pocket  of  his 
coat  a  cheque  made  out  and  signed,  Marion  Curtis 
almost  unconsciously  leaned  forward  to  glance  at 
it.  As  she  did  so  Jule  Allen  emerged  from  her  room 
and  coming  forward  quietly  stood  beside  Marion 
Curtin  and  laid  a  hand  on  her  arm.  Marion  felt  the 
hand  tremble  a  little  and  turned  to  look  at  the  face 
of  the  girl  beside  her.  But  Jule's  eyes  were  upon 
John  Mackay. 

"This  represents  the  initial  payment  on  the 
contract/'  Paxton  said  in  a  tone  that  was  almost 
indifferent. 

He  placed  the  cheque  on  the  table  before  John 
Mackay.  Jule  Allen  withdrew  her  hand  from  the 
arm  of  Marion  Curtis  and  leaving  her  side  walked 
quietly  to  the  other  side  of  the  table  and  stood  be- 
hind John  Mackay.  She  watched  him  while  he 
lifted  the  cheque  in  his  fingers  and  looked  at  it. 
Then  site  took  her  hand  from  the  pocket  of  her 

(21  A) 


318  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

skirt  and  stepping  close  behind  the  old  prospector 
held  another  piece  of  paper  between  him  and  the 
cheque  he  held  in  his  hand. 

John  Mackay  did  not  take  the  paper  at  first.  He 
looked  up  at  Jule  Allen,  question  in  his  eyes. 

"To  extend  the  option,"  she  said  simply. 

Paxton  started  forward  suddenly  and  began  to 
question  the  value  of  the  paper  in  Jule  Allen's 
hand. 

"Mr.  Mackay  knows  more  about  that  than  I  do 
myself,"  Jule  corrected  him.  "It  is  his  own 
money  I  am  paying  back  to  him — the  money  he 
paid  me  for  the  White  Squaw." 

There  was  a  long  period  of  silence.  Presently 
John  Mackay  took  the  cheque  from  Jule's  hand. 
He  held  the  two  cheques  before  him,  one  in  either 
hand  and  laid  both  on  the  table.  Slowly  he  picked 
up  Paxton 's  papers,  folded  them,  placed  Paxton 's 
cheque  within  them  and  handed  them  across  the 
table  to  him.  Without  a  word  Paxton  took  the 
papers  and  thrust  them  into  his  pocket. 

"How  long  will  the  extension  last?"  he  asked 
as  he  got  up  and  prepared  to  leave. 

"That  will  be  a  matter  we'll  have  to  decide 
later,"  John  Mackay  replied.  It  was  the  only 
word  he  had  spoken  during  the  whole  transaction. 

When  Paxton  had  gone  out  Marion  Curtis 
left  the  group  abruptly  and  followed  him.  Out- 
side in  the  darkness  she  hurried  after  him  as  he 
strode  off  towards  the  creek  where  his  canoe 
awaited  him.  When  they  were  out  of  ear- 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  319 

shot  of  the  cabin  she  spoke  and  Paxton  turned  to 
meet  her. 

"I  warned  yon  against  going  in  there,"  she  said. 
"It  was  rotten  form  and  it  turned  out  bad  busi- 
ness." 

Paxton  was  very  angry.  "I  don't  require  any 
comment  on  the  affair  from  you  just  now,"  he 
snapped.  ' l  It 's  only  a  matter  of  a  few  weeks,  any- 
how. And  in  the  meantime — much  may  happen. 
This  isn't  over  yet  by  a  long,  long  way." 

Marion  Curtis  raised  her  hand  quickly  and 
smiled.  "Warren  Paxton,"  she  said,  "it  is  over. 
Why  not  admit  it  ?" 

"It  will  be  over  when  I  pull  up  stakes — not  till 
then,  "he  replied. 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  without  speak- 
ing. When  he  seemed  on  the  point  of  going  she 
took  a  step  towards  him.  "Listen  to  me,"  she 
said,  "you  talked  business  to-night  when  I  didn't 
want  you  to.  Now,  listen  to  me  while  I  talk  a  little 
business  to  you." 

"Go  ahead,"  he  retorted. 

"You  have  fought  me,  Warren  Paxton,  with 
whatever  means  you  found,  foul  or  fair,  for  five 
years  or  more.  I  have  lost  often  in  those  five 
years.  But  I'm  not  through  yet.  You  may  think 
yon  are  in  no  way  responsible  for  what  has  oc- 
curred here  within  the  last  few  hours.  They  may 
not  think  so.  But  your  methods  are  wrong.  If  it 
comes  to  that  mine  are  wrong.  I  realize  that  more 
clearly  just  this  moment  than  I  ever  did  before.  I 


320  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

know  because — because  I  have  lost  again.  You've 
lost-— and  you  ought  to  have  the  sense  to  know 
there's  something  wrong  with  your  way  of  doing 
things." 

Paxton  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently. 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Warren  Paxton,"  she  said. 
"You  and  I  have  no  real  place  here.  I'm  going  to 
get  out  and  I'm  not  coming  back.  I'm  going  to 
leave  this  life  to  those  who  want  to  live  it.  But 
for  the  sake  of  the  game  and  some  of  the  players 
in  it  I'm  going  to  make  sure  of  one  thing  before  I 
leave.  I'm  going  to  make  sure  that  you  are  going 
to  pull  out,  too." 

Paxton  stepped  back  from  her  and  grunted  his 
surprise. 

"I'm  talking  business,  Warren  Paxton,"  she 
persisted,  "and  for  once  you  had  better  listen  and 
take  my  advice,  too,  in  the  matter.  You  think  you 
are  going  to  stay  round  here  and  obstruct  the 
work  of  this  mine  and  wait  the  first  opportunity  to 
get  control.  Well,  I  tell  you,  you  are  not.  It  isn't 
so  much  Henry  Tyne  that's  going  to  work  this 
place.  He's  in  our  class.  The  task  is  Kirk  Bran- 
der's — his  and — and  Jule  Allen's.  You  should 
have  seen  that  long  ago.  I'd  have  seen  it  myself 
if  I  hadn  't  been  blind.  Now  we  're  going  to  leave  it 
to  them.  I'm  going  because  there's  no  place  for  me 
here.  You're  going  because  it's  good  business." 

"I'm  quite  capable  of  using  my  own  judgment 
in  matters  concerning  my  business  interests," 
Paxton  reminded  her. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  321 

' '  Yon  're  just  wasting  time, ' '  she  replied.  * l  Per- 
haps yon  know — or  maybe  yon  haven't  heard  that 
rumor  connects  yonr  name  with  John  Allen's  loss 
in  the  rapids  on  Eat  Creek." 

Paxton  drew  himself  up  suddenly  on  the  de- 
fensive. 

"Whether  yon  know  that  or  not,  yon  do 
know  —  and  I  know  —  what  I  took  the  trouble 
to  find  out  as  soon  as  the  rumor  reached  me. 
Yon  and  I  know  that  the  Kat  Creek  affair 
was  your  doing. " 

"I'm  not  concerned  with  any  of  your  suspicions 
on  anything,  Marion  Curtis,"  Paxton  declared, 
"but  I  do  warn  yon  to  bo  careful  what  use  you 
make  of  my  name  when  yon  are  airing  your  sus- 
picions before  others.  You  might  be  called  upon 
to  prove  your  case." 

Marion  Curtis  smiled. 

"Yon  amuse  me — no,  yon  annoy  me,"  she  said 
impatiently.  "It  positively  annoys  me  to  think 
that  yon  don't  know  me  any  better  after  fighting 
me  for  five  years.  Listen  to  me.  I  never  waste 
time  on  suspicions.  And  I  never  try  bluffing 
where  I'm  really  in  earnest  about  anything.  You 
know,  even  better  than  I  do,  what  it  would  mean 
to  yon  if  it  was  suddenly  discovered  that  John 
Allen's  equipment  was  lost  because  yon  paid  a 
man  to  let  a  cable  slip  and  send  the  whole  thing 
down  the  rapids.  Yon  couldn't  get  accident  in- 
surance for  a  week.  Don't  let's  waste  time  on 
words,  Warren  Paxton.  This  isn  't  the  place  for  it. 


322  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

You  and  I  are  going  to  get  out  of  here  and  that's 
all  there  is  to  it." 

"I'll  not  waste  words,"  Paxton  replied.  "I'm 
going  to  stick  here — and  you  won't  move  me." 

All  the  fight  in  Marion  Curtis'  heart  came  into 
her  eyes.  She  clenched  her  fists  and  lifted  her 
head  in  ,the  proud  way  Warren  Paxton  knew  so 
well  and  feared,  too. 

"Then — by  George — try  it!"  she  challenged. 

Paxton  looked  across  the  creek  towards  his 
camp.  Sounds  of  men's  voices  came  to  them, 
echoing  in  the  silence  of  the  woods  on  the  creek 
shores.  He  listened  a  while  and  then  turned  and 
looked  towards  the  cabin.  As  they  stood 
there  without  speaking,  the  door  of  the  cabin 
opened  and  Jule  Allen  came  out  followed  by 
Kirk. 

"Don't  you  think  you'd  better  be  going?" 
Marion  Curtis  asked  him. 

He  would  have  replied,  for  it  was  very  plain 
that  something  was  troubling  him  but  as  he  was 
on  the  point  of  speaking,  the  forms  of  Kirk  and 
Jule  approached  them  from  the  cabin.  Paxton 
checked  himself,  and,  not  knowing  whether  the 
situation  demanded  that  he  should  go  or  stay,  hesi- 
tated long  enough  for  Kirk  and  Jule  to  come 
within  a  few  feet  of  them.  It  was  evident  from  the 
exclamation  of  surprise  that  came  suddenly  from 
Jule  that  neither  she  nor  Kirk  had  been  aware 
of  the  two  who  were  standing  in  the  trail  until 
they  were  almost  upon  them. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  323 

For  a  moment  Kirk  looked  at  Paxton  and  then 
at  Marion  Curtis. 

"Are  we  intruding?"  he  asked. 

Marion  Curtis  smiled.  "I  think  not,"  she  re- 
plied. ' '  Are  they,  Mr.  Paxton  f ' ' 

Paxton  looked  at  them  for  a  moment  without  re- 
plying. Then  suddenly  he  turned  on  his  heel. 
"  Go  to  the  devil ! "  he  exploded  pettishly  and  went 
off. 

"The  old  man  seems  a  little  peevish,"  Kirk  re- 
marked as  they  watched  him  go. 

Both  Jule  and  Kirk  broke  into  laughter  at  Pax- 
ton's  dramatic  leave-taking.  Marion  smiled  a 
little  as  she  dwelt  upon  the  humor  of  the  situation 
but  somehow  laughter  was  not  for  her.  She  was 
not  so  much  older  than  these  two  and  yet  they 
seemed  boy  and  girl  beside  her.  She  was  con- 
scious, too,  of  a  certain  irony  in  the  words  with 
which  she  reminded  them  of  the  lateness  of  the 
hour. 

"It's  time  you  children  were  in  bed,"  she  re- 
marked when  they  had  ceased  laughing,  and  to- 
gether the  three  turned  back  towards  the  cabin. 

At  the  doorway  Jule  and  Kirk  paused  and  Mar- 
ion Curtis  passed  in  closing  the  door  behind  her. 
John  Mackay  was  on  his  feet  beside  Henry  Tyne 
who  had  risen  to  go  back  to  camp  as  soon  as  Kirk 
returned.  Marion's  entrance  drew  a  glance  from 
Henry  Tyne  but  John  Mackay  was  intent  upon 
something  else.  In  his  hands  he  held  the  cheque 
which  Jule  Allen  had  given  him.  Slowly  he  tore  it 


324  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

in  two,  placed  the  two  halves  together  very  de- 
liberately and  tore  them  again,  and  yet  again. 
Then  he  let  the  small  pieces  flutter  from  his  fin- 
gers to  the  floor. 

"Good-night,  Henry  Tyne,"  he  said,  offering 
his  hand. 

Henry  Tyne  took  the  hand  and  held  it  in  a  lin- 
gering grasp. 

"Good-night,  John  Mackay,"  he  said  unaffect- 
edly  and  turning  away  put  on  his  hat  and  walked 
slowly  towards  the  door. 

He  'bade  good-night  to  Marion  Curtis  and 
going  to  the  door,  met  Jule  Allen  who  came  in  sud- 
denly, her  face  glowing  with  youth  but  strangely 
serious.  For  a  moment  they  regarded  each  other 
in  silence.  Then  the  old  man  put  his  arm  about 
her,  kissed  her  tenderly,  and  went  out. 

A  few  minutes  later  Kirk  Brander  and  Henry 
Tyne  entered  their  cabin.  Dags  was  snoring 
peacefully  in  his  bunk.  Tuck  Roberts  was  sitting 
where  Kirk  had  left  him  scarcely  an  hour  before, 
still  smoking  cigarettes.  He  moved  slightly  as 
Kirk  and  his  uncle  entered  but  spoke  not  a  word 
as  Henry  Tyne,  utterly  weary  from  the  experi- 
ences of  the  past  twelve  hours,  prepared  for  bed. 
Kirk  sat  down  in  a  chair  and  faced  Tuck,  and  thus 
they  waited  without  speaking  until  Henry  Tyne's 
heavy  breathing  told  them  that  he  was  asleep. 
Then  they  got  up  and  went  together  to  the  cabin 
that  did  service  as  office  and  store-room. 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  325 

% 

There  Tuck  Eoberts  began  the  story  that  Kirk 
had  never  heard,  the  story  that  he  had  waited  for 
with  a  suspense  that  he  could  hardly  bear.  Slowly 
Tuck  reviewed  the  events  of  his  life  in  the  far 
south,  a  life  that  had  had  unfortunate  beginnings 
and  had  grown  steadily  worse  until,  in  a  moment 
of  madness,  he  had  taken  the  life  of  another.  And 
Kirk  listened  silently  through  the  night  hours 
until  gray  dawn  appeared  at  the  window. 

When  the  story  was  told  at  last  they  sat  a  long 
time  without  speaking.  In  Kirk's  mind  was  being 
fought  the  battle  that  many  a  man  has  fought  for 
the  sake  of  friendship.  When  he  spoke  at  last, 
his  words  told  how  the  battle  had  gone. 

"We  must  get  out  of  here,  Tuck,"  he  said  sud- 
denly and  in  a  tone  that  was  merely  matter-of- 
fact. 

Tuck  looked  at  him  and  smiled  a  little.  "What 's 
the  use  of  that,  Kirk?"  he  protested.  "They've 
got  my  trail  again  and  they  '11  never  lose  it.  Keene 
would  follow  me  for  twenty  years— until  he  was 
done  or  I  was." 

They  were  silent  again  for  a  moment. 

"There's  even  more  to  it  than  I've  told  you, 
too,"  Tuck  said  at  last. 

Kirk  raised  his  head  expectantly. 

"It  it  hadn't  been  for  Ruth,"  Tuck  explained, 
"I'd  be  doing  time  now.  She  produced  an  alibi 
and— and— swore  by  it.  But  she  knew— she  knew 
I  had  a  hand  in  it." 

Kirk  started  to  his  feet  in  surprise.    "Tuck, 


326  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

he  exclaimed,  "you  don't  mean  the — the  fur?" 

Tuck  nodded  his  head  slowly. 

Kirk  came  and  stood  over  him.  He  was  trem- 
bling from  head  to  foot.  "Then — by  God,  Tuck— 
I  ought  to — I  ought  to  kill  you  for  that ! ' ' 

"That's  why  I  never  told  you,"  Tuck  replied. 
"But  she — she  knew — and  she  took  her  oath- 
swore  we  had  been  together  that  night  putting  the 
dogs  a  few  miles  over  the  course — and  when  I 
headed  straight  into  the  trap  they  set  for  me  last 
night — she  waited  for  me  and — you  know  the  rest. 
Not  many  of  our  pure-blood  whites  would  do  that 
for  a  man,  Kirk.  Don't  you  see  now  that  I  can't 
go — that  I've  got  to  stay  and  take  my  medicine. 
But  I  won't  stay  here,  Kirk.  I'll  go  out  and  meet 
it.  Keene  is  on  patrol  now.  When  we  hear  of  him 
coming — there'll  be  plenty  of  time." 

He  got  to  his  feet  and  faced  Kirk.    For  a  mo- 
ment the  two  men  looked  straight  into  each  other's 
.  eyes,  their  faces  set  hard,  their  brows  knit,  their 
*  mouths  tight  drawn. 

Suddenly  there  was  the  sound  of  footsteps  with- 
out and  then,  Joe  Bedard  passed  the  window  and 
came  to  the  door.  When  Kirk  turned  quickly  and 
opened  the  door  for  him,  the  half-breed  hesitated 
a  moment,  looked  at  Kirk  and  then  at  Tuck 
Eoberts. 

* '  Tuck, ' '  he  said.  ' l  Keene — come  now  up  trail. ' ' 

He  nodded  his  head  slowly,  then  lifted  his  chin 
towards  the  trail  leading  from  Jule  Allen's  cabin. 
Kirk  looked  out  and  saw  in  the  early  light  the 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  327 

forms  of  two  men  coming  towards  the  camp.  One 
was  Willoughby  of  the  Saskatchewan  force,  the 
other,  Keene  of  the  Royal  Canadian. 

Kirk  stepped  back  quickly  and  closed  the  door. 
Then,  yielding  to  the  impulse  that  rose  suddenly 
within  him,  he  seized  a  holster  and  belt  from  the 
wall,  thrust  it  into  Tuck's  hands  and  urged  him 
towards  the  door. 

"Hurry,  Tuck,"  he  said,  "you  can  make  it.  Up 
the  trail  to  John  Mackay's  cabin  and  across — " 

"It  won't  work,  Kirk,"  Tuck  protested  mildly. 

The  door  flew  open  suddenly  and  Jule  Allen 
rushed  towards  them,  breathless  and  frightened, 
her  hair  about  her  shoulders  and  clad  lightly  in  a 
loose  wrap. 

"Tuck,  Tuck!"  she  cried.  "They're  coming." 
Then,  when  she  saw  that  he  was  not  moving,  she 
turned  to  Kirk.  ' '  Tell  him,  Kirk — tell  him  to  go — 
I  can't — I  can't  stand " 

She  put  her  hands  to  her  face  and  Kirk  put  an 
arm  about  her  shoulders  to  steady  her.  Tuck 
looked  once  at  her  and  then  at  Kirk.  They  grip- 
ped hands  silently. 

"I'll  go  on  out,"  he  said  and  then,  looking  at 
Jule  Allen,  "I'll  be  back  in  a  minute.  Yon  two 
wait  here." 

He  went  to  the  door,  turned  once  for  a  last  look 
at  Kirk  and  Jule,  and  with  the  light  of  the  east  on 
his  uplifted  face  strode  away,  past  the  window, 
and  out  of  sight.  For  a  long  moment  Kirk  stood 
with  his  arm  about  the  trembling  form  of  the  girl 


328  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

On  the  table  before  him  lay  the  belt  and  holster 
where  Tuck  had  thrown  them  before  he  left.  And 
in  the  dim  light  of  the  early  morning  Kirk  saw 
that  the  holster  was  empty.  He  felt  his  throat 
tighten  and  his  breath  stop  as  he  waited  in  an 
agony  of  suspense — waited — waited — then,  three 
quick  shots  shattered  the  cold  silence. 

Jule  sobbed,  a  great  heart-breaking  sob,  and 
buried  her  face  against  his  shoulder.  Kirk  drew 
her  close  to  him,  wondering  vaguely  about  the 
great  heart-hunger  that  had  suddenly  seized  him. 
Then,  fearing  to  move,  he  bowed  his  head  until 
his  lips  touched  the  hair  that  was  pressed  to  his 
shoulder. 

"Tuck,  Tuck,"  he  whispered  hoarsely.  "Oh, 
God— Tuck!" 

And  even  as  he  spoke,  the  forms  of  Willoughby 
and  Keene  stood  in  the  open  doorway  where  only 
a  few  moments  before  had  stood  the  living  form 
of  Tuck  Koberts. 

"Sorry,  Kirk,"  Keene  said,  "but  he  drew  our 
fire  and— we  had  to  do  it." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

KTBK  BRANDER  left  work  somewhat  earlier 
than  usual  and  went  to  his  cabin.  For  half 
an  hour  or  more  he  attended  with  extrava- 
gant care  to  such  trifling  matters  as  shaving,  wash- 
ing, and  brushing  down  his  stubborn  mop  of  hair. 
When  he  looked  critically  at  his  reflection  in  the 
small  mirror  that  hung  above  the  wash-basin  by 
the  door,  his  approval  was  only  half-hearted. 

"Best  I  can  do,"  he  commented  and  then  hur- 
ried into  his  coat. 

From  the  table  he  took  a  half  dozen  letters  that 
had  come  in  by  the  mail-carriers  late  the  night 
before.  Quickly  he  sorted  them  and  picking  out 
one  from  Marion  Curtis,  threw  the  others  back 
upon  the  table. 

Five  minutes  later  he  strode  through  the  camp 
on  the  trail  that  led  to  Jule  Allen's  cabin.  As  he 
passed  the  boiler-house  the  voice  of  old  man  Dags 
came  to  him  from  the  entrance  to  the  main  shaft. 

"Get  back  early,  young  fellow,"  Dags  called. 
"These  late  hours  is  playin*  hell  with  business." 

Kirk  laughed  to  himself  and  hurried  along  the 
trail  into  the  woods.  It  was  already  late  October 
— a  full  two  months  since  that  tragic  day  in 
August.  Much  may  happen  in  even  less  time  but 

329 


330  THE  LOBSTICK  TKAIL 

Kirk's  thoughts  now  were  of  the  rare  freshness 
in  the  air  that  already  had  a  little  of  the  crisp  tang 
of  autumn  in  it,  and  of  the  glory  of  simply  being 
alive  in  such  a  place  and  at  such  a  time. 

Where  the  trail  dipped  a  little  towards  the 
water  and  showed  a  little  bay  through  an  opening 
in  the  trees  he  paused  a  moment  to  look  at  the 
heavy  flat  leaves  of  the  pond  lilies  lying  on  the 
water  and  riding  over  the  ripples  as  gracefully  as 
if  they  had  been  no  more  than  dark  green  shadows 
on  the  surface.  Suddenly  a  little  whisking  wind 
turned  the  water  gray  and  flipped  up  the  edges  of 
the  leaves.  To  Kirk's  mind  it  suggested  the  cold 
days  that  lay  just  ahead  and  he  hurried  away,  his 
heart  now  warming  in  anticipation  of  the  hot  sup- 
per that  awaited  him  in  the  cosy  cabin  of  Jule 
Allen. 

When,  a  minute  later,  he  opened  the  door  of  the 
cabin  and  looked  in  Jule  was  not  anywhere  in 
sight. 

"Hello!"  he  called. 

From  behind  him  came  the  clear  note  of  a  girl's 
laugh.  Turning  from  the  door  he  saw  her  stand- 
ing on  the  top  of  the  great  rock  above  the  rapids, 
her  arms  outstretched  to  the  brisk  breeze  that  was 
coming  in  from  the  lake.  As  he  went  towards  her 
she  ran  down  the  path  to  meet  him  and  almost 
threw  herself  laughing  into  his  arms.  They  kissed 
each  other  in  happy  mood  and  together  went  back 
to  the  cabin. 

They  sat  late  at  supper  that  night.    The  early 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  331 

autumn  twilight  prompted  the  lighting  of  a  lamp 
that  gave  an  added  touch  of  cosiness  to  the  place. 
Kirk  was  full  of  the  latest  developments  on  the 
property  and  the  reports  he  had  received  by  mail 
the  night  before  from  Marion  Curtis  and  Henry 
Tyne. 

"It's  going  to  be  even  bigger  than  I  dreamed," 
he  said  with  full  boyish  enthusiasm.  We  '11  have  to 
bring  power  here,  enough  power  to  work  one  of 
the  biggest  mines  on  this  continent.  We  may  have 
to  go  all  the  way  to  the  Burntwood.  Jove,  it'll  make 
Paxton's  little  old  ideas  look  like  a  peep-show  in  a 
cigar-box  alongside  a  three-ring  circus.  We'll 
have  to  put  in  a  cofferdam  and  drain  half  the  lake 
to  work  the  new  ore-body  properly  It'll  take  a 
year  or  more  for  the  government  to  build  the  rail- 
way in  from  The  Pas — but  that's  settled.  And 
we'll  have  a  town  of  our  own,  Jule,  with  five 
thousand  people.  Jove,  girl,  there's  a  man-sized 
job  right  here  that'll  take  a  whole  lifetime." 

He  got  up  as  he  spoke  and  going  round  to  her 
side  of  the  table,  drew  a  chair  close  to  hers  and  sat 
down.  Under  the  great  urge  of  the  vision  that 
challenged  his  imagination  he  put  his  arms  about 
her. 

"A  man-sized  job!"  he  repeated  and  kissed  her 
almost  roughly. 

She  pushed  him  back  a  little  and  looked  at  him. 

"And  the  woman-sized  job?"  she  asked  him. 

"Making  a  man — man's  size,"  he  smiled. 

She  got  up  and  went  to  a  small  stand  in  one 


332  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

corner  of  the  room.  "I  got  a  letter  last  flight,  too," 
she  said. 

When  she  came  back  to  him  and  sat  down  she 
held  an  open  page  of  a  letter  from  Marion  Curtis 
before  him.  She  folded  part  of  it  back  and  held 
before  his  eyes  a  couple  of  lines  that  she  indicated 
with  her  fingers.  Kirk  read  them  slowly — "Jule, 
dear,  you  do  not  know  how  rich  you  are.  You  are 
too  young — and  too  happy.  And  you  cannot  un- 
derstand how  poor  I  am.  But  that's  the  way  of 
the  world  —  good  luck  to  you,  dear,  and  to  you 
both." 

Kirk  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment.  "Marion's 
a  good  old  scout,"  he  said  finally  with  great  seri- 
ousness. "Do  you  know  something?" 

Jule  looked  up  at  him  as  she  folded  the  letter 
and  laid  it  on  the  table. 

"What?" 

"I  believe  she  had  something  to  do  with  forcing 
Paxton  to  pull  up  stakes  so  suddenly  and  get  out 
of  the  country,"  Kirk  suggested.  "Something 
happened — something  made  him  duck  for  cover. 
No  man  leaves  what  he  left — the  way  he  left  it — 
unless  he  has  a  reason." 

"You'll  never  know  from  Marion,"  Jnle  re- 
plied, "unless  she  chooses  to  tell  you." 

"Well,"  Kirk  commented  quietly,  "Marion 
doesn't  make  many  mistakes.  If  she  chooses 
not " 

"She  has  made  one  mistake,"  Jule  interrupted. 

He  looked  at  her  expectantly, 


THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL  333 

"When  she  says  I  don't  know  how  rich  I  am," 
she  said  and  leaned  towards  him. 

The  long  silence  that  followed  was  broken  at 
last  by  the  sound  of  voices  from  the  creek. 

*  'There  they  are!"  Jnle  cried  leaping  up  and 
running  to  the  door. 

Kirk  was  beside  her  as  soon  as  she  had  thrown 
the  door  open  and  together  they  looked  out  into 
the  gathering  dusk.  Two  Indians  were  pulling 
the  bows  of  two  canoes  up  unto  the  shore.  When 
the  canoes  were  steady  the  figures  of  three  men 
got  out  one  after  another  and  came  towards  the 
cabin. 

The  first  was  that  of  Henry  Tyne  who  took  Jule 
in  his  arms  as  she  met  him  and  kissed  her,  laugh- 
ing, before  he  gave  his  hand  to  Kirk.  Behind  him 
came  old  John  Mackay,  hailing  tnera  heartily  as 
he  passed  them  lugging  a  pack  towards  the  cabin. 
Last  came  the  slight,  dark-cloaked,  energetic  form 
of  the  venerable  little  father  of  the  mission  at 
Cumberland  House. 

"Nothing  to  do  now  but  declare  a  holiday  and 
invite  the  men  to  the  feast,"  Henry  Tyne  laughed 
as  Kirk  and  Jule  escorted  the  old  missionary  to- 
wards the  cabin. 

And  when  they  had  gone  in  and  had  closed  the 
door  behind  them  the  old  lobstick  that  stood  with 
arms  outstretched  above  the  rapids  bowed  his 
tufted  head  before  a  stiff  night  wind.  And  one 
that  did  not  know  might  have  thought  his  head 
was  bowed  because  of  the  three  mounds  that  lay 


334  THE  LOBSTICK  TRAIL 

side  by  side  under  the  shelter  of  the  lower 
branches.  But  in  days  to  come  he  stood  up  in  all 
his  sentinel  dignity,  the  guardian  of  happy  hearts 
that  had  found  satisfaction  in  a  great  work  and 
comfort  in  a  great  love. 


THE  END 


EDGAR  RICE  BURROUGHS 
_  NOVELS 

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TARZAN  THE  UNTAMED 

Tells  of  Tarzan'  s  return  to  the  life  of  the  ape-man  in 
his  search  for  vengeance  on  those  who  took  from  him  his 
wife  and  home. 

JUNGLE  TALES  OF  TARZAN 

Records  the  many  wonderful  exploits  by  which  Tarzan 
proves  his  right  to  ape  kingship. 

A  PRINCESS  OF  MARS 

Forty-three  million  miles  from  the  earth — a  succession 
of  the  weirdest  and  most  astounding  adventures  in  fiction. 
John  Carter,  American,  finds  himself  on  the  planet  Mars, 
battling  for  a  beautiful  woman,  with  the  Green  Men  of 
Mars,  terrible  creatures  fifteen  feet  high,  mounted  on 
horses  like  dragons. 

THE  GODS  OF  MARS 

Continuing  John  Carter' s  adventures  on  the  Planet  Mars, 
in  which  he  does  battle  against  the  ferocious  "plant  men," 
creatures  whose  mighty  tails  swished  their  victims  to  instant 
death,  and  defies  Issus,  the  terrible  Goddess  of  Death,  \ 
whom  all  Mars  worships  and  reveres. 


Old  acquaintances,  made  in  the  two  other  stories,  reap- 
pear, Tars  Tarkas,  Tardos  Mors  and  others.     There  is  a 
happy  ending  to  the  story  in  the  union  of  the  Warlord 
the  tide  conferred  upon  John  Carter,  with  Dejah  Thoris. 

THUVIA,  MAID  OF  MARS 

The  fourth  volume  of  the  series.  The  story  centers 
around  the  adventures  of  Carthoris,  the  son  of  John  Car« 
ter  and  Thuvia,  daughter  of  a  Martian  Emperor. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP.  PUBLISHERS,  NEW_YORK 


JAMES   OLIVER  CURWOOD'S 

STORIES  OF  ADVENTUR.E 

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THE  RIVER'S  END~ 

A  story  of  the  Royal  Mounted  Police. 
THE  GOLDEN  SNARE 

Thrilling  adventures  in  the  Far  Northland. 
NOMADS  OF  THE  NORTH 

The  story  of  a  bear-cub  and  a  dog. 
KAZAN 

The  tale  of  a  "quarter-strain  wolf  and  three-quarters  husky'  torn* 
between  the  call  of  the  human  and  his  wild  mate. 

BAREE,  SON  OF  KAZAN 

The  story  of  the  son  of  the  blind  Grey  Wolf  and  the  galiauL  par* 
he  played  in  the  lives  of  a  man  and  a  woman. 

THE  COURAGE  OF  CAPTAIN  PLUM 

The  story  of  the  King  of  Beaver  Island,  a  Mormon  colony,  and  hi* 
battle  with  Captain  Plum. 

THE  DANGER  TRAIL 

A  tale  of  love,  Indian  vengeance,  and  a  mystery  of  the  Nort!- 
THE  HUNTED  WOMAN 

A  tale  of  a  great  fight  in  the  "  valley  of  gold  "  for  a  woman. 
THE  FLOWER  OF  THE  NORTH 

The  story  of  Fort  o'  God,  where  the  wild  flavor  of  the  wilderness. 
is  blended  with  the  courtly  atmosphere  of  France. 

THE  GRIZZLY  KING 

The  story  of  Thor,  the  big  grizzly. 
I&OBEL 

A  love  story  of  the  Far  North. 
THE  WOLF  HUNTERS 

A  thrilling  tale  of  adventure  in  the  Canadian  wilderness 
THE  GOLD  HUNTERS 

The  story  of  adventura  in  the  Hudson  Bay  wilds. 
THE  COURAGE  OF  MARGE  O'DOONE 

Filled  with  exciting  incidents  in  the  land  of  strong  men  and  womea, 
BACK  TO  GOD'S  COUNTRY 

A  thrilling  story  of  the  Far  North.  The  great  Photoplay  was  mad« 
from  this  book. 

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THE  MAN  OF  THE  FOREST 

THE  DESERT  OF  WHEAT 

THE  U.  P.  TRAIL 

WILDFIRE 

THE  BORDER  LEGION 

THE  RAINBOW  TRAIL 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  DESERT 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE 

THE  LIGHT  OF  WESTERN  STARS 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLAINSMEN 

THE  LONE  STAR  RANGER 

DESERT  GOLD 

BETTY  ZANE 

***•••• 
LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS 

The  Bfe  story  of  "Buffalo  Bill"  by  his  sister  Helen  Cod? 
Wetmore,  with  Foreword  and  conclusion  by  Zane  Grey. 

ZANE  GREY'S  BOOKS  FOR  BOYS 

KEN  WARD  IN  THE  JUNGLE 

THE  YOUNG  LION  HUNTER 

THE  YOUNG  FORESTER 

THE  YOUNG  PITCHER 

THE  SHORT  STOP 

THE  RED-HEADED  OUTFIELD  AND  OTHER 

BASEBALL  STORIES 

'.         -  ^=aa 

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STORIES  OF  RARE  CHARM  BY 

GENE   STRATTON-PORTER 

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MICHAEL  O'HALLORAN.      Illustrated  by  Frances  Rogers. 

Michael  is  a  quick-witted  little  Irish  newsboy ,  living  in  Northern 
Indiana.     He  adopts  a  deserted  little  girl,  a  cripple.     He  also  a> 
sumes  the  responsibility  of  leading  the  entire  rural  community  up- 
ward and  onwardt 
LADDIE.      Illustrated  by  Herman  Pfeifer. 

This  is  a  bright,  cheery  tale  with  the  scenes  laid  in  Indiana.  The 
story  is  told  by  Little  Sister,  the  youngest  member  of  a  large  family, 
but  it  is  concerned  not  so  much  with  childish  doings  as  with  the  love 
affairs  of  older  members  of  the  family.  Chief  among  them  is  that 
of  Laddie  and  the  Princess,  an  English  girl  who  has  come  to  live  m 
the  neighborhood  and  about  whose  family  there  hangs  a  mystery. 
THE  HARVESTER.  Illustrated  by  W.  L.  Jacobs. 

"  The  Harvester, "  is  a  man  of  the  woods  and  fields,  and  if  the 
book  had  nothing  in  it  but  the  splendid  figure  of  this  man  it  would 
be  notable.     But  when  the  Girl  comes  to  his  "Medicine  Woods," 
there  begins  a  romance  of  the  rarest  idyllic  quality. 
FRECKLES.      Illustrated. 

Freckles  is  a  nameless  waif  when  the  tale  opens,  but  the  way  in 
which  he  takes  hold  of  life  ;  the  nature  friendships  he  forms  in  the 
great  Limberlost  Swamp  ;  the  manner  in  which  everyone  who  meeta 
him  succumbs  to  the  charm  of  his  engaging  personality  ;  and  his 
love-story  with  "  The  Angel "  are  full  of  real  sentiment, 
A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMBERLOST.  ^Illustrated. 

The  story  of  a  girl  of  the  Michigan  woods ;  a  buoyant,  loveablw 
type  of  the  self-reliant  American.  Her  philosophy  is  one  of  love  and 
kindness  towards  all  things  ;  her  hope  is  never  dimmed.  And  by 
the  sheer  beauty  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity  of  her  vision,  she  wins  from 
barren  and  unpromising  surroundings  those  rewards  of  high  courage. 
AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW.  Illustrations  in  colors. 

The  scene  of  this  charming  love  story  is  laid  in  Central  Indiana. 
The  story  is  one  of  devoted  friendship,  and  tender  self-sacrificing 
love.     The  novel  is  brimful  of  the  most  beautiful  word  painting  of 
nature,  and  its  pathos  and  tender  sentiment  will  endear  it  to  all. 
THE  SONG  OF  THE  CARDINAL.     Profusely  illustrated. 

A  love  ideal  of  the  Cardinal  bird  and  his  mate,  told  with  delicacy 
and  humor. 


FLORENCE  L.  BARCLAY'S 
NOVELS 

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THE  WHITE  LADIES  OF  WORCESTER 

A  novel  of  the  12th  Century.  The  heroine,  believing  she 
had  lost  her  lover,  enters  a  convent.  He  returns,  and  in- 
teresting developments  follow. 

THE  UPAS  TREE 

A  love  story  of  rare  charm.    It  deals  with  a  successful 

author  and  his  wife. 

THROUGH  THE  POSTERN  GATE 

The  story  of  a  seven  day  courtship,  in  which  the  dis- 
crepancy in  ages  vanished  into  insignificance  before  the 
convincing  demonstration  of  abiding  love. 

THE  ROSARY 

The  story  of  a  young  artist  who  is  reputed  to  love  beauty 
above  all  else  in  the  world,  but  who,  when  blinded  through 
an  accident,  gains  life's  greatest  happiness.  A  rare  story 
of  the  great  passion  of  two  real  people  superbly  capable  of 
love,  its  sacrifices  and  its  exceeding  reward. 

THE  MISTRESS  OF  SHENSTONE 

The  lovely  young  Lady  Ingleby,  recently  widowed  by  the 
death  of  a  husband  who  never  understood  her,  meets  a  fine, 
clean  young  chap  who  is  ignorant  of  her  title  and  they  fall 
deeply  in  love  with  each  other.  When  he  learns  her  real 
identity  a  situation  of  singular  power  is  developed. 

THE  BROKEN  HALO 

The  story  of  a  young  man  whose  religious  belief  was 
shattered  in  childhood  and  restored  to  him  by  the  little 
white  lady,  many  years  older  than  himself,  to  whom  he  is 
passionately  devoted.  »<, 

THE  FOLLOWING  OF  THE  STAR 

The  story  of  a  young  missionary,  who,  about  to  start  for 
Africa,  marries  wealthy  Diana  Rivers,  in  order  to  help  her 
fulfill  the  conditions  of  her  uncle's  will,  and  how  they  finally 
come  to  love  each  other  and  are  reunited  after  experiences 
that  soften  and  purify. 

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ETHEL    M.    DELL'S    NOVELS 


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THE  LAMP  IN  THE  DESERT 

The  scene  of  this  splendid  story  is  laid  in  India  and 
tells  of  the  lamp  of  love  that  continues  to  shine  through 
all  sorts  of  tribulations  to  final  happiness. 

GREATHEART 

The  story  of  a  cripple  whose  deformed  body  conceals 
a  noble  soul. 

THE  HUNDREDTH  CHANCE 

A  hero  who  worked  to  win  even  when  there  was  only 
* '  a  hundredth  chance." 

THE  SWINDLER 

The  story  of  a  "bad  man's"  soul  revealed  by  a 
woman's  faith. 

THE  TIDAL  WAVE 

Talcs  of  love  and  of  women  who  learned  to  know  the 
true  from  the  false. 

THE  SAFETY  CURTAIN 

A  very  vivid  love  story  of  India.  The  volume  also 
contains  four  other  long  stories  of  equal  interest 

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ELEANOR  H.  PORTER'S  NOVELS 

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JUST  DAVID 

The  tale  of  a  loveable  boy  and  the  place  he  comes  to 
fill  in  the  hearts  of  the  gruff  farmer  folk  to  whose  care  h* 

is  left. 

THE  ROAD  TO  UNDERSTANDING 

A  compelling  romance  of  love  and  marriage. 
OH,  MONEY  !  MONEY  ! 

Stanley  Fulton,  a  wealthy  bachelor,  to  test  the  disposi- 
tions of  his  relatives,  sends  them  each  a  check  for  $100,- 
000,  and  tben  as  plain  John  Smith  comes  among  them  ic 
watch  the  result  of  his  experiment. 

SIX  STAR  RANCH 

A  wholesome  story  of  a  club  of  six  girls  and  their  sum- 
mer on  Six  Star  Ranch. 

DAWN 

The  story  of  a  blind  boy  whose  courage  leads  him 
through  the  gulf  of  despair  into  a  final  victory  gained  by 
dedicating  his  life  to  the  service  of  blind  soldiers. 

.ACROSS  THE  YEARS 

Short  stories  oJ  our  own  kind  and  of  our  own  people. 
Contains  some  of  the  best  writing  Mrs.  Porter  has  done. 

THE  TANGLED  THREADS 

In  these  stories  we  find  the  concentrated  charm  an# 
tenderness  of  all  her  other  books. 

THE  TIE  THAT  BINDS 

Intensely  human  stories  told  with  Mrs.  Porter's  won* 
derful  talent  for  warm  and  vivid  character  drawing. 

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"STORM  COUNTRY"  BOOKS  BY 

GRACE  MILLER  WHITE 

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JUDY  OF  ROGUES'  HARBOR 

Judy's  untutored  ideas  of  God,  her  love  of  wild  things, 
her  faith  in  life  are  quite  as  inspiring  as  those  of  Tess 
Her  faith  and  sincerity  catch  at  your  heart  strings.     Thu, 
book  has  all  of  the  mystery  and  tense  action  of  the  othei 
Storm  Country  books. 

TESS  OF  THE  STORM  COUNTRY 

It  was  as  Tess,  beautiful,  wild,  impetuous,  that  Mary 
Pickford  made  her  reputation  as  a  motion  picture  actress. 
How  love  acts  upon  a  temperament  such  as  hers — a  tem- 
perament that  makes  a  woman  an  angel  or  an  outcast,  ac- 
cording to  the  character  of  the  man  she  loves — is  the 
theme  of  the  story. 

THE  SECRET  OF  THE  STORM  COUNTRY 

The  sequel  to  "  Tess  of  the  Storm  Country,"  with  the 
same  wild  background,  with  its  half-gypsy  life  of  the  squat- 
ters— tempestuous,  passionate,  brooding.  Tess  learns  the 
"  secret "  of  her  birth  and  finds  happiness  and  love  through 
her  boundless  faith  in  life. 

FROM  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MISSING 

A  haunting  story  with  its  scene  laid  near  the  country 
familiar  to  readers  of  "  Tess  of  the  Storm  Country." 

ROSE  O'  PARADISE 

"  Jinny  "  Singleton,  wild,  lovely,  lonely,  but  with  a  pas< 
sionate  yearning  for  music,  grows  up  in  the  house  of  Lafe 
Grandoken,  a  crippled  cobbler  of  the  Storm  Country.  Her 
romance  is  full  of  power  and  glory  and  tenderness. 

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THE  NOVELS  OF 
GRACE    LIVINGSTON    HILL     LUTZ 

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THE  BEST  MAN 

Through  a  strange  series  of  adventures  a  young  man  finds 
himself  propelled  up  the  aisle  of  a  church  and  married  to  a 
strange  girl. 

A  VOICE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

On  her  way  West  the  heroine  steps  off  by  mistake  at  a  lonely 
watertank  into  a  maze  of  thrilling  events. 

THE  ENCHANTED  BARN 

Every  member  of  the  family  will  enjoy  this  spirited  chronicle 
of  a  young  girl's  resourcefulness  and  pluck,  and  the  secret  of 
the  "enchanted"  barn. 

THE  WITNESS 

The  fascinating  story  of  the  enormous  change  an  incident 
wrocijyht  in  a  man's  life. 

MARCIA  SCHUYLER 

A  picture  of  ideal  girlhood  set  in  the  time  of  full  skirts  and 
poke  bonnets. 

LO.  MICHAEL  ! 

A  story  of  unfailing  appeal  to  all  who  love  and  understand  boys. 
THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

An  intensely  moving  love  story  of  a  man  of  the  desert  and  a 
girl  of  th*  East  pictured  against  the  background  of  the  Far  West 

JPHOEBE  DEANE 

A  tense  and  charming  love  story,  told  with  a  grace  and  a  £er« 
VOT  with  which  only  Mrs.  Lutz  could  tell  it. 

DAWN  OF  THE  MORNING 

A  romance  of  the  last  century  with  all  of  its  old-fashioned 
charm.      A  companion    volume  to    "Marcia  Schuyler"  and 
'Phoebe  Deane." 

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THE  SKY  PILOT  IN  NO  MAN'S  LAND 

The  clean-hearted,  strong-limbed  man  of  the  West  leaves 
his  hills  and  forests  to  fight  the  battle  for  freedom  in  the 
old  world. 
BLACK  ROCK 

A  story  of  strong  men  in  the  mountains  of  the  West. 
THE  SKY  PILOT 

A  story  of  cowboy  life,  abounding  in  the  freshest  humor, 
the  truest  tenderness  and  the  finest  courage. 
THE  PROSPECTOR 

A  tale  of  the  foothills  and  of  the  man  who  came  to  them 
to  lend  a  hand  to  the  lonely  men  and  women  who  needed  a 
protector. 
THE  MAN  FROM  GLENGARRY 

This  narrative  brings  us  into  contact  with  elemental  and 
volcanic  human  nature  and  with  a  hero  whose  power  breathes 
from  every  word. 
GLENGARRY  SCHOOL  DAYS 

In  this  rough  country  of  Glengarry,  Ralph  Connor  has 
found  human  nature  in  the  rough. 
THE  DOCTOR 

The  story   of  a  "preacher-doctor"  whom  big  men  and 
reckless  men  loved  for  his  unselfUh  life  among  them. 
THE  FOREIGNER 

A  tale  of  the  Saskatchewan  and  of  a  "  foreigner "  who 
made  a  brave  and  winning  fight  for  manhood  and  love. 
CORPORAL  CAMERON 

This  splendid  type  of  the  upright,  out-of-door  man  about 
which  Ralph  Connor  builds  all  has  stories,  appears  again  in 
this  book. 

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BOOTH     TARKINGTON'S 
NOVELS 

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SEVENTEEN.    Illustrated  by  Arthur  William  Brown. 

No  one  but  the  creator  of  Penrod  could  have  portrayed 
the  immortal  young  people  of  this  story.  Its  humor  is  irre- 
sistible and  reminiscent  of  the  time  when  the  reader  waa 
Seventeen. 

FENROD.    Illustrated  by  Gordon  Grant. 

This  is  a  picture  of  a  boy's  heart,  full  of  the  lovable,  hu- 
morous, tragic  things  which  are  locked  secrets  to  most  older 
folks.  It  is  a  finished,  exquisite  work. 

PENROD  AND  SAM.  Illustrated  by  Worth  Brehm. 

Like  "  Penrod "  and  "  Seventeen,"  this  book  contains 
Borne  remarkable  phases  of  real  boyhood  and  some  of  the  best 
rtories  of  juvenile  pranktshness  that  have  ever  been  written. 

THE  TURMOIL.    Illustrated  by  C.  E.  Chambers. 

Bibbs  Sheridan  ia  a  dreamy,  imaginative  youth,  who  re- 
volts against  his  fathers  plans  for  him  to  be  a  servitor  of 
big  business.  The  love  of  a  fine  girl  turns  Bibb's  life  from 
failure  to  success. 

THE  GENTLEMAN  FROM  INDIANA.    Frontispiece. 

A  story  of  love  and  politics, — more  especially  a  picture  of 
a  country  editor's  life  in  Indiana,  but  the  charm  of  the  book 
lies  in  the  love  interest. 

THE  FLIRT.    Illustrated  by  Clarence  F.  Underwood. 

The  "  Flirt,"  the  younger  of  two  sisters,  breaks  one  girl's 
engagement,  drives  one  man  to  suicide,  causes  the  murder 
of  another,  leads  another  to  lose  his  fortune,  and  in  the  end 
marries  a  stupid  and  unpromising  suitor,  leaving  the  really 
worthy  one  to  marry  her  sister. 

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KATHLEEN   NORRIS'   STORIES 

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SISTERS.  Frontispiece  by  Frank  Street. 

The  California  Redwoods  furnish  the  background  for  this 
beautiful  story  of  sisterly  devotion  and  sacrifice. 

POOR.  DEAR.  MARGARET  KIRBY. 
Frontispiece  by  George  Gibbs. 

A  collection  of  delightful  stories,  including  "  Bridging  the 
Years  "  and  ' '  The  Tide-Marsh. ' '  This  story  is  now  shown  in 
moving  pictures. 

JOSSELYN'S  WIFE.  Frontispiece  by  C.  Allan  Gilbert. 

The  story  of  a  beautiful  woman  who  fought  a  bitter  fight  fo> 
happiness  and  lore. 

MARTIE,  THE  UNCONQUERED. 
Illustrated  by  Charles  E.  Chambers. 
The  triumph  of  a  dauntless  spirit  over  adverse  conditions. 

THE  HEART  OF  RACHAEL. 
Frontispiece  by  Charles  E.  Chambers. 

An  interesting  story  of  divorce  and  the  problems  that  come 
with  a  second  marriage. 

THE  STORY  OF  JULIA  PAGE. 

Frontispiece  by  C.  Allan  Gilbert. 

|T~A  sympathetic  portrayal  of  the  quest  of  a  normal  girl,  obscure 

and  lonely,  for  the  happiness  of  life. 

SATURDAY'S  CHILD.    Frontispiece  by  F.  Graham  Cootes. 

Can  a  girl,  born  in  rather  sordid  conditions,  lift  herself  through 
sheer  determination  to  the  better  things  for  which  her  soul 
hungered  ? 

MOTHER.    Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

A  story  of  the  big  mother  heart  that  beats  in  the  background 
of  every  girl's  life,  and  some  dreams  which  came  true. 

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